Resurgence
by Arcturus Peverell
Summary: A man lost in the sands of time is back with a vengeance. And this time, it will take more than a dark lord to quench his thirst. Dark! Harry, Slytherin! Harry, Powerful! Harry. Time-Travel. AU.
1. Prologue

" _Shut it Harry, this is madness! You cannot just go ahead with it."_

" _Do you have a better idea? Look at where we stand, this is the precipice." Harry snarled, the cut across his right cheek glistening with the blood trickling down from his forehead. Theo looked away, unable to face his friend. A few years ago, he would have laughed at the idea of being a brother in all but blood to Harry Potter. Now though..._

" _Even if this... rendezvous of yours should succeed... you know what is at stake. The dark Lord-"_

" _Theo!" Harry snapped almost automatically._

" _Yes, Voldemort! Sheesh! Voldy will return. You of all people should know how dangerous a bet it is. It took us everything to defeat the wanker."_

" _That bastard has taken more than that, Theo. I very well know what I am doing. However, this world... it is at an end. Our back has touched the wall. They have pushed us one too many times."_

" _And you are trying to convince me to deal with the devil, only in hopes of pushing back!" Theo snapped. "And I don't bloody well believe it, but I am almost letting you convince me. Bloody contagious Gryffindorish mentality." He muttered something incoherent, but Harry could not make heads or tails out of that. With a sigh, he looked up at the emerald-green eyes of his brother in all but blood, and asked._

" _What's the plan?"_

 _Harry grinned from ear to ear._

* * *

 **May 7, 1992.**

"Seize him! SEIZE HIM!" shrieked Voldemort again, and Quirrel lunged, knocking Harry clean off his feet, landing on top of him, both hands around Harry's neck — Harry's scar was almost  
blinding him with pain, yet he could see Quirrel howling in agony.

"Master, I cannot hold him — my hands — my hands!" Quirrel, though pinning Harry to the ground with his knees, let go of his neck and stared, bewildered, at his own palms — Harry could see they looked burned, raw, red, and shiny.  
"Then kill him, fool, and be done with it!" screeched Voldemort. Quirrel raised his hand to perform a deadly curse, but Harry, by instinct, reached up and grabbed Quirrel's face —

"AAAARGH!"  
Quirrell rolled off him, his face blistering, too, and then Harry knew: Quirrell could not touch his bare skin, not without suffering terrible pain — his only chance was to keep hold of Quirrell, keep  
him in enough pain to stop him from doing a curse. Harry jumped to his feet, caught Quirrell by the arm, and hung on as tight as he could. Quirrell screamed and tried to throw Harry  
off — the pain in Harry's head was building — he could not see — he could only hear Quirrel's terrible shrieks and Voldemort's yells of, "KILL HIM! KILL HIM!" and other voices, maybe in Harry's own head, crying, "Harry! Harry!"

He felt Quirrel's arm wrenched from his grasp, knew all was lost, and fell into blackness.

Light. Dazzling light. Something tried to enter into his body, something that felt both strange and familiar at the same time- he opened his eyes- a green light- a dark substance- and then pain engulfed him, making the light disappear away.

* * *

 **May 2, 1993.**

"You're dead, Harry Potter," said Riddle's voice above him. "Dead. Even Dumbledore's bird knows it. Do you see what he is doing, Potter? He's crying."

Harry blinked. Fawkes's head slid in and out of focus. Thick, pearly tears were trickling down the glossy feathers.  
"I'm going to sit here and watch you die, Harry Potter. Take your time. I'm in no hurry."

Harry felt drowsy. Everything around him seemed to be spinning. "So ends the famous Harry Potter," said Riddle's distant voice. "Alone in the Chamber of Secrets, forsaken by his friends, defeated at last by the Dark Lord he so unwisely challenged. You will be back with your dear Mudblood mother soon, Harry... She bought you twelve years of borrowed time, but Lord Voldemort got you in the end, as you knew he must..."  
If this is dying, thought Harry, it is not so bad. Even the pain was leaving him.

Then it happened again. The dazzling light- something he knew he had seen for some tiny moments there during the fight with Quirrel in front of the Mirror-it was the same feeling- but then, he felt Fawkes' tears stop that feeling, and the light diminished again.

 _That is two times that it has happened. I wonder if it meant that I was close to dying or something._

The Chamber seemed to be coming back into focus. Harry gave his head a little shake and  
there was Fawkes, still resting his head on Harry's arm. A pearly patch of tears was shining all around the wound — except there was no wound —  
"Get away, bird," said Riddle's voice suddenly, rising in panic. "Get away from him — I said, get away."

* * *

 **May 19, 1994.**

Harry looked desperately around. Black and Lupin both gone. They had only Snape for company, still hanging, unconscious, in midair.  
"We'd better get them up to the castle and tell someone," said Harry, pushing his hair out of his eyes, trying to think straight. "Come —"  
But then, from beyond the range of their vision, they heard a yelping, a whining: a dog in pain. "Sirius," Harry muttered, staring into the darkness. He had a moment's indecision, there was nothing they could do for Ron at the moment and by the sound of it, Black was in trouble —

Harry set off at a run, Hermione right behind him. The yelping seemed to be coming from the ground near the edge of the lake. They pelted toward it, and Harry, running flat out, felt the cold without realizing what it must mean —

The yelping stopped abruptly. As they reached the lakeshore, they saw why — Sirius had turned back into a man. He was crouched on all fours, his hands over his head. "No!" he moaned. "Noooo ... please..."

And then Harry saw them. Dementors, at least a hundred of them, gliding in a black mass around the lake toward them. He spun around, the familiar, icy cold penetrating his insides, fog starting to obscure his vision; more were appearing out of the darkness on every side; they were encircling them.

"Hermione, think of something happy!" Harry yelled, raising his wand, blinking furiously to try to clear his vision, shaking his head to rid it of the faint screaming that had started inside it.

 _I am going to live with my godfather. I'm leaving the Dursleys._

He forced himself to think of Black, and only Black, and began to chant. "Expecto Patronum! Expecto Patronum!" Black gave a shudder, rolled over, and lay motionless on the ground, pale as death.

 _He will be all right. I am going to go and live with him._

"Expecto Patronum! Hermione, help me! Expecto Patronum!"  
"Expecto —" Hermione whispered, "Expecto — Expecto —"

However, she could not do it. The Dementors were closing in, barely ten feet from them. They formed a solid wall around Harry and Hermione, and were getting closer...

"EXPECTO PATRONUM!" Harry yelled, trying to blot the screaming from his ears. "EXPECTO PATRONUM!"

A thin wisp of silver escaped his wand and hovered like mist before him. At the same moment, Harry felt Hermione collapse next to him. He was alone... completely alone. "Expecto — Expecto Patronum —" Harry felt his knees hit the cold grass. Fog was clouding his eyes.

By the feeble light of his formless Patronus, he saw a Dementor halt, very close to him. It could not walk through the cloud of silver mist Harry had conjured. A dead, slimy hand slid out from under the cloak. It made a gesture as though to sweep the Patronus aside.  
"No — no —" Harry gasped. "He's innocent . . . Expecto —Expecto Patronum —"  
He could feel them watching him; hear their rattling breath like an evil wind around him. The nearest Dementor seemed to be considering him. Then it raised both its rotting hands — and lowered its hood. Where there should have been eyes, there was only thin, gray-scabbed skin, stretched blankly over empty sockets. However, there was a mouth- a gaping, shapeless hole, sucking the air with the sound of a death rattle. A paralyzing terror filled Harry so that he couldn't move or  
speak. His Patronus flickered and died.

And then, dazzling white light blinded him.

For a moment, there was nothing. Harry wondered once again, if this was Death. If it was so, then it wasn't bad—after all, it was painless. However, as Albus Dumbledore was so fond of saying- sometimes the best of us need to eat our words, and so did the thirteen-year-old Harry Potter.

Pain. Agonizing pain seemed to fill in deep into his soul. A soul-wrenching scream let out from the depths and Harry felt himself be torn from deep within.

A scream... An oily liquid seemed to lick his skin as it almost crawled down his forehead, and a certain light-headedness seemed to swim into him- something he had never felt before. The pain receded for a moment, and then, it was back with a vengeance.

Something foreign... yet so similar...

It dove into him.

He let out a shriek of pain. A shriek, which got lost in the depths of his own soul.

Then, his eyes snapped open. In the Dementor-induced darkness, his eyes glowed a brilliant emerald green.

The Dementor seemed a little confused for some reason, and it slowly drifted back, gradually-as Harry felt the ever-enclosing darkness drift way-slowly... slowly. A smirk formed on his bloodied lips, his wand twirling in his fingers-with a sharp whip, he shoved it into the cloak of the Dementor in front of him- snarling as he yelled-

"Expecto Patronum!"

A huge shaft of silver light hurled out of his wand, as it formed a golden dome inside the Dementor's body. The Dementor seemed confused for a moment, and then it let out a shriek of pain- the golden dome suddenly sprung out two wide wings and four limbs- then the head formed out- tearing the Dementor into shreds as the thestral Patronus stood out in all its glory.

The other Dementors witnessed the obliteration of one of their own, and let out a shriek of pain themselves. It was a dazzling sight- the thestral glowing in the center with the Dementors crying out in agony surrounding it.

 _Hermione was right. These things have some kind of hive-mind or something._

The smirk played on his lips as he swished his wand into circular arcs, and then forwarded the wand with a powerful thrust. Eldritch energies manifested around the wand and formed a shade of deep glowing crimson- the cursed fire from the depths of Hell manifesting in front of the Dark Lake.

"FIENDFYRE!" Harry roared.

The eldritch energies transformed into the cursed fire and surged forward- the massive shaft of fire swirling all over- phoenixes, basilisks, chimeras and dragons all forming in and out of the massive flames and obliterating the Dementors—burning them left, right and center.

 _Now the rest of them shall come to the aid of the ones present here. Voldemort will have to do with less servants this time._

And indeed, it was. Hundreds of Dementors glided across the sky, shrieking in pain and anger as they circled all around him, trying to break in and suck his soul-but the blazing flames stopped them—the black cloaks of the beasts burning on contact with the cursed flames and then there was that damned silvery creature radiating like the sun—it was overwhelming.

The head of the Dementor herd seemed to give the order, and the remaining ones accepted it immediately. After all, vengeance while important, was not more important than survival. Moreover, right then—inside the deadly dance of the flames of Death- survival was a difficult thing to have. A resounding shriek- the Dementors glided away as swiftly as they could- the remaining ones anyway.

The flames died down and finally the ethereal creature stood in front of him in all its elegance- its power radiating in its very stance- what with the way it stood proudly—wings stretched to the maximum and prowling silently. The darkness receded allowing the moonlight to trace its way back into the realms of the forbidden forest.

 _One last thing remaining._

He whipped his wand towards the fallen body of his emaciated godfather and whispered something incoherent- it was some sort of spell as his godfather's body glowed with a purple sheen.

"Dobby!"

A single pop, a burst of light and a hyperactive and excited elf popped into existence in front of him. "Harry Potter sir calls for Dobby?"

 _This needs to be done quickly._

"Dobby. This is urgent. I need help. Do you want to bond with me and become a Potter elf?"

Dobby's eyes watered—it was a dream come true. It was true that he had wanted to become a free elf, but that was the half-truth- he wanted to be free of the Malfoys and then serve Harry Potter—the greatest wizard in the world. Now however, it seemed that Magic had deemed to fulfill his wish.

"Of course Harry Potter sir! Dobby wants to be your elf!" Dobby was about to jump and hug the legs of his soon-to-be-master when Harry spoke out—his voice lined with urgency.

"I take Dobby in as my House-elf!" he intoned, extending his hand towards the elf who beamed with delight and held his palm tightly. "Dobby agrees." The magic reacted, the oath took place and a sheen settles all around Dobby, marking him as a Potter elf.

"Can you feel the location of any of the Potter properties, Dobby?"

Dobby bobbed his head extravagantly. "Yes, Dobby does. Master."

Pointing towards the fallen body of his Godfather, he spoke. "This is my godfather—Sirius Black. I want you to take him to one of my family houses and bring him back to health. This is a direct order, and unless I say otherwise, Sirius Black does not leave the property, no matter what happens. Is that clear?"

Dobby looked at his new master with eager, adoring eyes. "Yes, master." With a leap, he held on to the fallen body of Sirius Black as the duo disappeared with a pop.

 _First step. Success._

* * *

Harry Potter looked at himself. It surprised him how very scrawny he was- then again, it was only after Voldemort was dead that Harry had come in face to face with his true magic- magic that was secluded away from him because of the horcrux- magic that had been forced away from him because one wily old man had feared that he would become dark and twisted. Then again, he was kind of, twisted in his own queer way—after all, Tom Riddle had been right all long.

 _ **There are strange likenesses between us, after all. Even you must have noticed. Both halfbloods, orphans, raised by Muggles. Probably the only two Parselmouths to come to Hogwarts since the great Slytherin himself. We even look something alike...**_

Harry laughed mirthlessly. It was ironic how the words of the sixteen-year-old wannabe-dark-lord's words were true, much truer than even the dark lord would have thought possible.

 _This time, you aren't getting to kill everyone Voldemort. Because this time, I am coming for you._

He looked down. The unconscious body of Hermione Granger lay in front of him. Harry pondered over the situation. How easy it would be to...

He shook his head. No, that would complicate things. Not at the given moment though. Later perhaps?

The sound of a loud clear howl of the werewolf was audible. Moony was close, and as happy as he was on wanting to meet him- meeting Moony in all his glory was not something he was looking forward to.

 _Only one way._

His features shifted, feathers grew all over his body and in less than three seconds, a golden eagle perched on the ground-the very same ground on which Harry Potter was standing a moment ago. The green eyes- still present in this form, looked oddly at the fallen body of the girl beside him- and felt an odd emotion.

Confusion.

Flapping its large wings, it captured the lithe body of the fallen Hermione Granger and soared up into the clear moonlit sky- its wings flapping as it glided across the Quidditch pitch, right beside the Astronomy tower- there on one end, he could see Snape struggling to get up, binding up Ron Weasley and levitating him—walking towards the grounds. He could see Minerva Mcgonagall darting out- her movement defying her age- then again, she was a frisky little tabby cat after all.

The eagle dropped the fallen body of Hermione Granger slowly in the center of the Quidditch pitch, making sure she was unhurt-and soared above into the heavens. He had to get himself into the Room of Requirement immediately-what with his senses warning him that his magic was about to send out a powerful backlash.

Just five more seconds- his core stirred violently- four seconds- he was nearly on the seventh floor, thank Merlin the window was open- three seconds- reached, now the three turns- two seconds-"Come now! Open!" he wanted to shout, but what came out was an angry screech- one- the door opened and he flew in, closing the door hard and fast as he transformed in a flash.

His core shook violently, giving him a feeling of Deja-vu.

 _Fuck it, do your worst._

* * *

 **#### AUTHORS' NOTE: Yeah I got another epiphany, which coupled with the lack of muse over my existing stories for the moment as well as my inability to get them beta'd... this new fanciful idea came into my mind and as always, I started writing it down. Hopefully this will garner as much 'following' as my other stories have done so far. And as always, your reviews work wonders for my muse.**

 **Now, this story is going to be centered around fourth year. Now I assume you have many questions about the mention of the three different fights and all. All I can say is, they have their reason. Now this will be a monogamous story, though I haven't really decided the pairing as of yet at the moment. Your suggestions regarding the pairing are most welcome. It goes without saying that this is a time-travel story, and I really wanted to do one of those. Hence... please don't cringe in frustration when you find Harry demonstrating his magical prowess. There are many other factors that need to be taken into account, but hang on to the story till the reasons are revealed.**

 **Also, thanks to Lady Edgecombe for her wonderful dedication in editing and beta-ing the chapter.**

 **Thanks,**

 **Arcturus Peverell.**


	2. Chapter 2 : Decisions

_The beginning was always the same._

 _Pain._

 _Sometimes, I think that Pain and I have a kind of symbiotic relationship. After all, Harry Potter and Pain are two sides of the same coin. I was born, and my mother endured the pains of childbirth. No scratch that- even before I was born, I was a royal pain in the arse for the Dark Lord himself- after all, which dark wizard wants to believe that a baby is going to be the herald of his doom?_

 _Not me._

 _No, you read that right, all the way since the start. However, perhaps, I should improvise. Scratch the wizard and substitute it with 'Lord'. After all, Voldy got himself banged up when I was a mere toddler after all. Now please don't even mention the 'power of love', you do not want to be in my bad books. Trust me, I know- I have ravaged and obliterated, much more than Voldy and his merry men could ever hope of doing._

 _You think I should not joke with his name? Big deal! I tried saying Voldemort—but too many people flinching, and so I decided to improvise—hence Voldy. Not good enough? Your problem. However, I digress. Back to my initial line, yes. Pain._

 _I was a year old. I banged up a dark lord, though it took me my parents' deaths to do the bang-up job. I guess it was Fate's way of making me taste the forbidden fruit of pain- I am good at causing pain, so it decided to make me feel pain. Why else would someone like me be shoved down the lane of Number 4, Privet Drive? You would think that would be enough, wouldn't you? But no, old man Dumbledore just had to bind my core and send me to the hellhole. Sometimes I wonder how Dumbledore never thought of unbinding my core. Perhaps he thought that the bindings had fallen apart on their own._

 _Only if that were to be true._

 _A decade of abuse at the Dursley's- a decade of me lacking my magic and by extension—my self-worth and my heritage—all because one paranoid bastard decided to act God and decide my life. Bloody arsehole! Sometimes I wonder if Dumbledore's pathological need to keep secrets was some sort of mental disorder. Then the old coot has the balls to go and call Mad-eye Moody paranoid? Honestly?_

 _Where was I? Oh yes, the pain. So, Hagrid picks me up, shoves the truth down on little old me that I am a wizard (NOT a freak) and that I have magic. Oh, and that there was a mysterious big bad wizard who had tried to kill me, but had to settle for killing my parents. Why? Because I banged him up for good before he could kill me. Therefore, I am the Boy-who-lived (to be an orphan)._

 _First year, I got half-killed by the troll and then almost completely dead by the hands of the DADA teacher. You would think that with all the powers and intelligence that the old man has hidden up in the depths of silvery beard, he would know Quirrell would go down to any lengths to get the stone. Apparently, common sense isn't a big part of wizard magic (An image of Cornelius Fudge appears in front of my eyes as I speak) and hence, people here, are morons. Absolute morons. Full stop._

 _Second year. Basilisk._

 _Third Year. Dementors._

 _Fourth year. Dragons, mermen, and spiders. Not to mention Hagrid's special creations... Then a reincarnating dark lord to boot, added with the death of a seventh year, albeit a HUFFLEPUFF. Wands out, you reckon? Honestly?_

 _What happened after that is an entanglement of mistakes, hormones, blood and gore. Friends betraying each other, truth dawning out of arseholes at moments and of course, the tantalizing romance... with the exception of everything except the last- it was great._

 _Then, the blood and gore began. The Ministry fell head first, the buildings burned. Friends turned into enemies as the world dissolved into a wizarding war. At least it was a wizarding war until Voldy had the unfortunate reckoning to perform a bloody ritual._

 _A ritual that summoned demons._

 _I have often wondered if Voldy was a bit addled from the beginning. As is always, my gut instinct was correct. The unfortunate accidental by-product of Merope Gaunt, one that had grown up with daddy issues- had let Hell into the world._

 _Was it any surprise that Voldemort was torn apart by two of the very demons he had summoned onto the Earth?_

 _Now, now. Don't be surprised. When your number one enemy is out there killing off powerful demons, and you as the one who summoned them, decide to sit on the sidelines and do nothing- it is normally a bad thing to do. So yes, demons tore Lord Voldemort apart, while I took great relish in slicing of his great snake- no sexual innuendos here. Plain and simple._

 _It had taken eight years for the magical world to get some amount of stability to it. And then one high-strung girl had to just go and throw everything into the gutter._

 _Hermione Granger and her bloody affability with the word. 'Barbaric'._

 _You might ask why Harry Potter could not do anything to avoid it. Yes, of course I could. Nevertheless, I didn't. Why you ask? Simple. Because I was cast out. Cast out because of fear and greed._

 _They cast me out. They destroyed my family and everything they held dear._

 _In return, I gave them the dark lord that caused their complete annihilation._

* * *

Harry let out a veritable scream of agony as his magical core gave way- the fusion of the magical core already present in his body mixed with his innate magical power, one that had been kept bound to prevent the horcrux from getting more powerful- the result could be described in one single word.

Overwhelming.

Sounds complicated? Let me help you. Consider this. Your magical power is bound, making you almost a squib. If you want a comparison, here is one. You are Neville Longbottom in his first year. Happy now? Well back to the point. Therefore, your magical self is devoid of power, but your effing relatives torment you, making you more and more susceptible to manifesting accidental magic. Do you know what happens? Your magical self, now devoid of its power, develops another core full of energy, enough to get things running.

Congratulations, you are a wizard, and thus, a welcome member to the madhouse they call Wizarding Britain.

Now after three tumultuous years and near-death experiences, Harry's new core had become the default core for his magical prowess. That was until this very night. The loss of the horcrux broke down the bindings, leaving the original core completely free for his use.

Two extremely powerful magical cores. One thirteen-year-old boy. Add to that the soul of a time-traveler.

As was described earlier, it was overwhelming.

Eldritch energies expanded in and out of his core, sending aftershocks and backlashes out of his magical core. The magical flow points- the branches that helped a wizard draw magic from his core- expanded in quantity and quality-he could now sense magic flowing throughout him, while his expanded golden core stood pulsing, almost begging to be used. It was a feeling he had not felt for a long time. Almost fifteen years in fact.

A huge foray of magical power expanded out of him, sending shockwaves throughout the room. However, the Room of requirement was built on the intersection of three magical ley-lines, making it an excellent absorber and conductor of magical energy. Thus, a burst, which could have levelled almost an alleyway, was contained in between the walls of the Room and nobody, even the great Albus Dumbledore knew anything about it. The excess energy seeped out and powered the ancient wards of the castle, just as Salazar Slytherin had designed them to be.

The excess energies flowed into his limbs, filling them out, clearing them of the last vestiges of malnutrition and illnesses, gaining him new strength in his bones, incrementing his height too by a few inches. When he opened his eyes, the now-glowing emerald eyes of a new and improved Harry Potter shone brightly in the empty room.

 _I am Back!_

* * *

Albus Dumbledore paced his office silently, his mind engulfed in distress. Things had taken a surprise turn. According to Snape, Lupin had transformed and the werewolf had attacked them, and could have killed them. Then, Sirius Black of all people had come to their help, and had bodily roughhoused with the wolf, making it run after him. Harry Potter had also run down into the forest along with Hermione Granger, trying to save Sirius Black of all people.

 _I wonder if we had made a giant mistake all those years ago._

There had been some changes in the weather, as Dementors had given in chase after Sirius Black. Dumbledore had seen them flock into the forest—the unnatural cold and darkness seeping into the forest along with them. He was about to join in and try to help, only to be surprised as a burst of bright light seemed to erupt somewhere in the center of the forest. He had apparated to the point only to see a most amazing sight.

A corporeal Patronus.

A thestral of all things.

And the one who wield it with such precision- Harry Potter.

For one moment, Dumbledore was pensive about how the young boy could master such a complex spell, but then he digressed. After all, the boy was quite powerful even as a baby. Perhaps his magic had become tuned with his core. The bindings must have broken off completely by now. Satisfied that the situation was under control, he apparated away.

How wrong he was!

He had barely made it to his office when screeches of the Dementors arising from the forest captured his attention. Quickly making it to the window, he could not believe his eyes.

Someone had cast Fiendfyre in the forbidden forest.

No scratch that, someone was expertly wielding Fiendfyre in the forbidden forest.

There was only one person out there who had such masterful command over the cursed fire.

Lord Voldemort.

Could it be possible that exposure to Dementors released the evil of the horcrux inside the boy? If that would be the case, then perhaps the entire situation had changed. He would have to keep a strict watch on Harry Potter. Or, if his suspicions were correct, Lord Voldemort.

* * *

Harry stretched his new and improved body and observed himself in an ornate mirror manifested inside the Room of Requirement. It was a welcome change compared to the injured left leg he had carried for years before all that had happened. The dark spell Voldemort had cast at him had completely obliterated his bone marrow and thus, his chance at getting his leg grow back nicely. Hence, the limp. It had even affected his animagus forms. Although as an eagle, it did not hinder his flight in the least, but it did affect his landing. Now though, that problem was over for good. Harry smiled at the memory of his first flight as the golden eagle, swerving and diving regally much to the consternation of his girlfriend.

 _Now, I only need to get her back._

Shaking himself off his reveries, he observed his body, his muscles flexing at his will. He had become a couple of inches taller, and his chest had expanded a bit. His body was now more muscular, looking a bit lean now.

 _At least that is better than being the scrawny little thing I was._

His clothes were a mess, what with them being torn at places. With a sigh, he whipped his wand over his clothes, and transfigured them into brand new robes. The transfiguration wasn't permanent, but it would do for now. At least before, he could get himself a couple more pairs from Diagon Alley.

 _That reminds me. I need to visit Gringotts. Perhaps this summer then._

Casting a tempus, he realized that by this time, Hermione (Granger, he mused) would be in the hospital wing. Then again, he had changed the timeline by altering the events. For one, he would not let Sirius live off as a fugitive, only to die in the battle at the Ministry. His godfather did not deserve that. That reminded him...

"Dobby?"

The hyperactive elf popped in instantly. "Yes, Master Harry Potter sir?"

Harry cringed. Dobby always had a penchant for worshipping him. "Call me Harry, Dobby." The elf seemed to have some issues calling him by his name, so he decided to change tracks. "If that is a problem, you may call me Master Potter. Is that okay with you?"

Dobby weighed the suggestion for an instant, before bobbing his head up and down. "Yes, Master Potter."

"Has Sirius woken up?"

Dobby nodded in reply. "He has been complaining about having to stay at the manor. But I have not let him leave as Master wanted."

Harry sighed. A long-suffering sigh. "Hold on, Dobby." Wishing for a piece of parchment and a quill, Harry sat down to write a letter. The materials materialized immediately, and Harry started to write down the letter to his godfather.

 **Sirius,**

 **Despite being my godfather, you have let me stay with those filthy mundane Dursleys for thirteen years. All because you decided to choose going after Pettigrew instead of taking care of me. Now that you are a fugitive, it is in my best interests if you stay at Potter manor and get well first. Then, we need to work on getting you freed legally. If you think you can do that, please do not resist and let Dobby take care of you and nurse you to health.**

 **Your godson,  
Prongslet.**

Handing the parchment to his elf, he spoke. "Give this to Sirius. He will not be grumpy anymore." The elf took it without question and popped away. Harry mused. The letter was harsh, but it would have the desired effect.

 _Sometimes it is necessary to be cruel to be kind._

* * *

 **The Hogwarts Hospital Wing.**

Madam Pomfrey glanced over the information about Hermione Granger's vitals, as she lay unconscious on the hospital bed. The day had been a veritable mess of situations and as always, such events tended to be centered on Harry Potter and his friends. The thirteen-year-old had suffered over-exposure to Dementors and was suffering from the effects at the moment. Physically she was fine but mentally, her mind was a mess. An exposure to Dementors would do that to you. Surprisingly, Miss Granger had been found lying in the center of the Quidditch field, away from the forest where a fire had burnt almost a hundred yards in the middle of the forest.

For the record, Harry Potter was nowhere to be found. No one knew where he was. Snape had stated that he had run into the forest after Black, but no one had known what happened to him after that. Dumbledore had gone after him but to no effect. Pomfrey could not help but feel worried.

"Madam Pomfrey?"

Poppy swerved to her right instantly, shocked to hear the familiar voice. "Potter?"

"The very same." There it was. That same lop-sided grin, that untamable mass of unruly hair, and those same bright green eyes. Poppy felt her breath leave her, just recognizing that she had held it all the while. "Where were you?"

"I was in the castle, Madam Pomfrey. I had passed out in an unused classroom."

Poppy narrowed her eyes. "I did not see you enter. I was in the grounds."

Harry smirked. "I have my ways, Madam Pomfrey." Moving towards the school matron, he stood in front of her. "Could you get a scan of my vitals? My magic feels... _different_."

"Does it?" Poppy pursed her lips. "Let me see." She waved her wand over his body and incanted something obscure, as Harry felt his chest glow and some strange runic circles and symbols appeared all in front of him. Poppy's eyes widened, as she understood the inferences.

The problem was... the inferences were downright impossible.

"This does not make sense. Your core, it seems to have expanded by at least twice. Initially your magical index was 412, which was quite good for your age, but now..." she trailed, her mind refusing to believe what she was seeing.

"How much is it now, Madam Pomfrey?" Harry urged.

"1052."

Harry smirked inwardly. Putting on an inquisitive look, he urged at her to explain. Poppy sighed and continued. "Normally a student has an index ranging from 250 to 500, the average seventh year being somewhere around 380 to 400. It goes without saying that even as a fourth year, you are quite powerful than most students. After a wizard reaches his maturity, a period which normally ranges from 18 to 21, his magical core increases by as much as thirty percent, and thus on an average, the usual wizard is usually in the 400 to 550 range. Now Albus Dumbledore, he has an overly powerful index of 634. But this... this is unfathomable." She mused loudly.

"Madam Pomfrey, I hope this information will be kept discreet and confidential?" Harry urged. Poppy hesitated for a moment before nodding. She knew that she was legally responsible to report it to the Headmaster if he should personally ask for it, but there was something about the boy; something made her decide to keep it private. The boy did not need any more unwanted attention than he already received.

"Thank you, Madam Pomfrey. How is... Hermione?" A distressed look flashed on his face.

"She is better. I have given her some dreamless sleep. She should be fit in a few hours. Your friend Weasley though, must stay for the day. His leg bones have been broken and suffered some amount of splintering." Harry winced at the news, though it hardly made any matter to him personally.

"Thank you, Madam Pomfrey. I should leave now."

"Mr. Potter, I need to have a couple of words with you." The orotund voice of the Headmaster resounded behind him. Smirking inwardly, he turned back, his face expressionless.

"Yes professor?"

"Care to join me in my office? I am afraid there are things we need to discuss."

"Sure." Harry shrugged, unsure of where this was going.

Dumbledore nodded and darted off towards his office, swiftly followed by Harry. Moving across the corridor, they crossed the gargoyle and climbed the stairs towards the circular office upstairs. The door opened on its own as the venerable Headmaster took his seat behind his desk, gesturing Harry to sit in front of the desk.

"There are certain things I need to... discuss with you, Harry."

Harry nodded, waiting for him to continue. Dumbledore sighed and began his questioning. "What happened with Sirius Black in the forest, Harry?"

Harry wondered what he should say and what he should improvise. This was Dumbledore, and his uncanny ability to make out hidden truths out of simple sentences.

"Perhaps you should just say what is in your mind, instead of framing your words together. I have often seen that it helps to speak our mind better, my boy." Dumbledore continued in a soft yet firm voice.

Harry looked uncertain. "Sirius Black is innocent. He is my godfather, and he has escaped out of prison to save me."

"A likely story. Harry, I am afraid but he has lied to you. He was your parents' secret keeper and-"

"Their secret keeper was Peter Pettigrew!" Harry yelled out in frustration. Dumbledore looked shocked at such a reaction. "Please explain."

Harry sighed. This was going to take some time.

* * *

Sirius Black was frustrated. Part of it was because he was a horrible godfather. Pat of it was because he had failed to catch the rat. Part of it was because he had failed and was still a fugitive. Finally, part of it was that he was now under house arrest placed on him by a stupid elf.

He had tried to break through the wards, but without success. Who knew house elves packed such power? Yes, he was emaciated and weak, but for Merlin's sake, he was an accomplished ward-breaker. In fact, even James would refer to him when faced by an obscure ward.

Now, he was unable to break through wards placed by a house-elf. It was frustrating.

"Let me go!" he yelled out in frustration.

Almost in answer to his yells, a pop appeared almost next to him. Sirius turned back and found the blasted elf standing behind him. "Let me go, elf!" he hissed angrily.

Dobby did not reply. He simply held out his tiny frail-looking hand towards him. There was a parchment in it.

 _A letter?_

"Is that... for me?"

Dobby bobbed. "Master Potter sends you his regards."

Sirius did not need any further invitation. Nearly snatching the parchment, he hungrily read it. It was from his godson after all. Dobby watched surprised, never knowing that a wizard's face could change so many colors so frequently. His face shifted from happiness to anger to confusion to sadness to resignation. Finally, he gave out a long-drawn sigh.

"Harry is right. I need to get better first. I am sorry. I will not complain any longer."

Dobby gaped. Just as his Master had told him, the wizard had stopped complaining. All that with just one letter. Harry Potter was indeed the greatest wizard in the world.

* * *

"So, let me get the facts straight. Peter Pettigrew betrayed the Potters and duped Black. Not just that, he was hiding as the Weasleys' rat all these years. It sounds very fanciful, you have to agree."

Harry was almost getting impatient. Almost. "Will a pensieve memory suffice, Headmaster?"

Albus straightened. "How would you know about a pensieve, Harry?"

"I read." He drawled the words out.

"Very well. A suppose you also know how to draw out a memory?"

A single nod.

"I am fascinated, Harry. On the one hand, you show several forms of precociousness. On the other hand, your exam reports are anything but good. It is disturbing to be very honest."

An emotion flickered across Harry's face. Had Dumbledore observed it properly, he would have deduced it as one primal emotion.

Hatred.

"You would know that when you are placed in a hellhole for a decade. You would know that when you have lived for ten years knowing that you are nothing but a freak, when you have your own blood torture you and keep you unfed for weeks, when every achievement means a week of no food- then, and only then you will understand why I did what I did."

For the first time, Albus Dumbledore was surprised. He had initially thought that Riddle's soul had taken over Harry, and knowing Riddle as he did- the best way to get the truth out of him was to infuriate him. However, the response he was getting- it was unfathomable.

"I don't understand-" he tried.

"Oh, shut it Dumbledore!" Harry snarled. "You know very well what you did. You kept me ignorant of my heritage. You made me suffer at the hands of the Dursleys' for a decade. You bound my magical core. In addition, despite my requests-"Harry laughed mirthlessly-"What request? I begged you to not send me there, but you put on that damned smile and bid me away for another stay at the Dursley prison." Harry had not noticed it, but his magic, being unstable was lashing out alongside his rage. An enormous golden aura flickered around him, making him look even more menacing as he did.

A golden aura? But that's-

Dumbledore came to a decision.

"Harry. For reasons, I cannot reveal to you yet, I must send you back to the Dursleys for this year. I assure you I will talk to them and-"

A cold demeanor suddenly flickered over Harry's angry face. The fiery rage had just turned cold, colder than a blizzard. Righteous anger had just turned into vengeance.

"So be it."

Dumbledore waited for an outburst, but it never came.

"Can I prevail upon you to contact the DMLE and arrange a trial for Sirius Black? Though I am not sure where he is, at the moment- I am sure he will return as soon as he gets the news."

Dumbledore frowned. "I am sure Cornelius would be a much better-"

"I knew it. You do not listen. Good-bye, Dumbledore. Get yourself another pawn." Harry stood up, and walked towards the door.

"I did not give you my permission to leave, Harry Potter. You will not leave unless I ask you to."

Harry turned, smirking at Dumbledore's stern answer. Inwardly, he was glaring with rage. It was a testament to his Occlumency that he could maintain such a perfect poker face. "Never knew you were a pedophile, Dumbledore. Forcing children to stay within your office without their consent, then again, what is there to be expected of you?"

Dumbledore whipped out his wand. For a moment, Harry was distracted. Why wouldn't he? After all, he was the sole master of this particular wand for over two decades.

"I have my suspicions that you are hiding something important from me. This is for your own good." He whipped the ancient wand towards the emerald-eyed wizard and whispered.

"Legilimens!"

Pain.

Agonizing pain.

Albus Dumbledore had never felt such pain in decades. No scratch that, he had never felt so much pain since he was born. For a moment, he wondered if this was what Voldemort had felt like. The entire power of the Legilimency foray he had hurled towards the thirteen-year-old, magnified multiple times by the elder wand- the entire power had been reverted to his own self. His shields breaking and shattering—he trying to hold the attack back but failing dismally- the elder wand heating up and using his own magic against him-it was unbearable.

"What—is-hap-penning?" he cried out in agony.

Harry smirked. He had almost seen it coming. Voldemort had tried to kill him with the killing curse using the elder wand-and the curse had repulsed back at him-it was sheer dumb luck that a demon was there to absorb the effect of the spell. Now, Albus Dumbledore, notorious for his use of passive Legilimency- was now getting a taste of his own medicine.

The old man was writhing with pain—fallen on the floor with his old wizened hands supporting himself. Harry smirked. He stalked towards him. "I know you think that I am not Harry Potter. I know you think that the horcrux of Lord Voldemort has possessed me. But you know what? You are both right and wrong. I am _not_ the Harry Potter you know. I am the dark lord Harry Potter, the most feared sorcerer of magical history." He hissed.

"How-what?" Dumbledore was panting- his mind still agonized by the continuous Legilimency attack.

"I am magical Britain's _reckoning_ , Dumbledore! And you will _not_ be an obstacle in my path." He hissed calmly in the old man's ear. The coldness of his voice making his threat even more frightening.

"I will stop—you!" Dumbledore panted, his senses now almost losing the battle.

"You will try, and you will fail." Harry held out his palm, and the legendary elder wand flew out from Dumbledore into his own hand. The core of the wand seemed to dance in tune with his innate magic—wand and master rejoining in union at last.

"How I have missed this..." Harry mused. "But then again, you have taken good care of my wand all this time. So, I think you deserve some sort of... _consolation_ prize." A prank rose in his mind, and he summoned the old man's old wand. The black Birchwood and dragon heartstring wand rose into his palm. Harry closed his eyes and concentrated as runic circles manifested above and below the wand. A few incantations later, he opened his eyes.

 _The transmutation is complete._

Wavering in the air an inch above his palm was Dumbledore's original wand, now permanently disguised as the elder wand.

"Now, there is just one more thing left to do." A frightening smirk playing on his lips, he placed the tip of the elder wand on Dumbledore's temple.

"Obliviate!"

* * *

 **###** **And that, brings an end to the chapter. Hopefully a lot of questions will be answered. Hopefully, it will open another whole new vault of questions. Hopefully I will get lots and lots of reviews. Hopefully now that my wonderful beta-reader is back, my grammar will be much more correct. Hopefully you will enjoy this action-packed adventure.**


	3. Chapter 3 : From Future, with Hate

" _Did you know that the killing curse was created by Salazar Slytherin's own son? Apparently, he gave it the color of their characteristic eyes."_

" _Am I supposed to feel complimented or insulted by that?"_

" _Oh I don't know Harry, you were always a dummy anyway!" she teased._

" _You love this, don't you? Compliment me and insult me in the same speech?"_

 _She laughs. It sounds melodious to my ears. She pulls me close and places my head on her lap. Her vibrant eyes peering deep into my soul, she watches me._

" _You know I love you, right?"_

 _She laughs. Of course you do."_

* * *

The door to the Headmaster's office knocked gently.

"Come in, Harry."

Harry entered the room, a soft smile playing on his face. It was the same room just as always- the shelves filled with arcane tomes- the shabby old sorting Hat perched on one of the dusty shelves- Fawkes with his beautiful crimson and gold plumage trilling happily- the odd artifacts tinkling and making odd noises and finally the tad eccentric Headmaster sitting behind the desk- his half-moon glasses with the dense blue eyes peering at him like always, giving him a feeling as if he was being x-rayed.

"What can I do for you, my boy?" The grandfatherly smile is up as usual. Harry wondered if the old man knew how amazingly deceptive his mannerisms were.

"I have come to deliver my yearly _begging_ speech!" Harry replied, keeping his face straight.

Dumbledore looked confused for a moment, but then a small smile forms on his lips—a smile which turns into an amused smirk. "Yearly begging speech, Harry?"

"Yes." Harry sighs. "The Dursleys hate me. They have tortured me ever since I was a kid. I do not want to go there." He ranted half-heartedly.

"My boy. I know you have problems, but it is for your own good. The wards there at the Dursleys provide you protection. It is absolutely necessary for you to return there. At least for three weeks. After that, I will contact Arthur and see if he can take you in for the rest of the summer."

Harry sighed. Somethings never changed. At least this time, the old man would not be able to say that he did not warn him.

"Thank you Professor."

* * *

The scholastic session had ended two days after the altercation with the Dementors. Ron and Hermione had been released the previous night and had been awfully busy in packing. Hermione had locked herself away in the library, her last-minute attempts at trying to scurry away as much information as she could memorize. Before long, the students had thronged down the halls of Hogwarts and gathered at Hogsmeade station as the train let out whistles. It was time to leave.

Finding an empty compartment, he ushered himself in. Locking the door with a low-powered privacy ward, he gathered his trunk and belongings.

 _I am in serious need of some shopping._

A smirk played on his lips. He apparated. Later on the train, Hermione and Ron would find themselves all alone, wondering where Harry Potter was. After minutes of trepidation, the pair decided that Dumbledore must have sent him home privately because of Peter Pettigrew.

* * *

Apparating to a suburb near Charing Cross Road, Harry stood alone in a secluded location. Carefully making sure that he was alone, he whispered. "Dobby!" An instantaneous pop later, the wizard and elf appeared on the lush green grounds of Potter Manor. The feeling of fresh grass beneath his boots brought up old memories. It was almost like standing in front of the Mirror of Erised, seeing his hearts' desire in front of her. The Manor, the lush grounds... everything brought back memories he had long wanted to forget.

" _ **We have time... don't we? After all of this is over?"**_

 _ **He smiled back in return, as they walk barefooted through the lush grounds, hand in hand.**_

" _ **Lots of time... lots and lots of time..."**_

 _ **An explosion... light...heat...fire...confusion.**_

 _ **Blood.**_

 _ **Her glassy eyes...devoid of that characteristic vibrancy...devoid of life...**_

 _ **A bloodcurdling scream...**_

"Master?"

Harry snapped off from his memories. "Yes!" he asked in a throaty voice, as if something was constricting his windpipe. "What is it, Dobby?"

"Does Master want Dobby to do anything?"

Harry shook his head. "No Dobby. Does Sirius know that I have returned yet?"

"Master Black is having a nap, after his regular potions dose."

"He isn't complaining anymore. Is he?"

Dobby nodded in denial. Good.

"I want to spend some time alone. Do not inform Sirius of my arrival yet."

"HARRY?" The familiar voice rang from the Manor. A healthy looking Sirius Black was waving his hands up high like a five-year-old hyperactive child.

 _It was worth a try._

"Plans changed, Dobby. Here are my orders. Do not under any circumstances; let anyone know that I am here. I may send you for some shopping. In the meantime, I want you to purchase some... stuff from the Egyptian Market. Do you think you can do that for me?"

Dobby nodded. Good.

"Master!" the odd elf croaked.

Harry turned towards him.

"May I ask something? Master must not take offence."

"Speak out Dobby."

"Master is different. Master is Harry Potter, but Master's magic is different from Harry Potter sir. Harry Potter sir's magic was... _warm_. Master's is _cold_. But Master Potter is Harry Potter sir. Dobby is confused."

Harry smirked and let out a hollow laugh. "You are correct, Dobby. However, fear not, I am Harry Potter. As for what happened to me—it is a long story, which I will, share someday later. Now I need to have some rest. Can you take me to the bedrooms?"

"Yes Master Potter."

A single pop later, Master and elf were standing inside the plush bedroom. The king size white bed was prepared and ready for use. The bed stirred up memories. Memories he did not want to delve into, at the moment.

 _I should meet Sirius and then leave for Gringotts. That will be for the best._

"Harry! Thank God, you are finally here! That elf-" Sirius began.

"Yeah, nice to meet you too, Sirius." He smirked at his forlorn godfather, who seemed to realize something. He strode forward and hugged his godson, the bitter feelings of separation from the child for over a decade swirling inside him. "I am sorry. I am a terrible godfather. I am-"

"Sirius!" Harry deadpanned. Sirius looked at him, a bit confused over the change that had happened inside his Godson. All the year, Harry had been a kind of introvert, save the occasional death-defying stunts in Quidditch and his altercation in the Shrieking Shack. Now though...

Harry Potter was more of a man... a stern decisive man, cold and calculated, eerily reminding him of the most ruthless bastard in the world-his own grandfather—Arcturus Black. His stature was no more of the thirteen-year-old teenager, but of a grown-up man.

"Harry... has something happened?"

Harry raised his eyebrows.

"You seem changed."

Harry smirked. "Forgive me Sirius, but there is a lot many things you do not know about me." Looking at the sudden drop of enthusiasm and the growing bitterness in his godfather's face, he changed track. "Oh come on Sirius, you know what I mean."

Sirius mumbled something incoherent. "Are you taking your nutritional potions as I have told Dobby to provide you with?"

A nod.

"I need you back in my life, Sirius. But first, we need to neutralize the last vestiges of the effects Azkaban has over you."

"Harry! I am fine! Look, there is nothing wrong with me. I swear we can just leave this place and settle somewhere in the Caribbean, preferably near a coven of Veela..." he trailed. Harry raised his eyebrows mockingly.

 _Yes, definitely nothing wrong with you._

"I am going to Diagon Alley. I should be back by evening. See you then Sirius."

"Wait, how will you go-" Sirius began but stopped his diatribe midway seeing his godson apparate away- "by yourself!" he finished, alone in the room.

* * *

Apparating on an empty street near Knockturn Alley, Harry transfigured his robes into plain wizarding robes with a long hood to cover his face. The goblins, for all their flaws, understood the need of privacy and security- much more than wizard kind anyway. Striding across the steps into the giant white edifice that was Gringotts, he walked past the guards, direct towards one of the tellers along the sides. It was much more private than the ones along the main hallway.

Standing in front of the teller, he muttered, his tone audible enough to make sure the goblin heard him, but low enough to keep people from listening in.

"I would like to meet Grimjaw. My name is Potter."

The goblin widened his eyes for a fraction of a second, before reverting to his usual bored expression. "Nagruk here -" a small goblin who looked junior to the teller stood up from his seat, "—will direct you to your destination."

Harry nodded. "May your enemies fall before you, goblin." The teller gave him a sharp smile, looking much more predatory than usual, what with those sharp canines that protruded down his jaw.

After walking through the corridor behind the teller's domain, as was known in Gringotts, the wizard and goblin walked together towards the officials of the banking establishment, or more specifically, the account managers. It was an open secret that goblins, despite the greedy little buggers that they were, did not like being called 'Account-Managers.' According to them, it was simply their job description and not their identity. It was for the same reason why Harry had referred to his Account-manger as Grimjaw and not 'Account-manager Grimjaw.'

The office was exactly as he remembered. Harry had been here exactly three times in his previous life. One, when he was sent for attending Sirius' will in his sixth year; the second when he took the Lordship of Potter in his seventh year, and finally one five years later, when Voldemort was officially dead.

 _Things will be different this time. I will not let that arsehole to continue waging the war for so long._

"You are heir Potter?" The very same, uninterested tone.

"And you are the warrior turned banker responsible for keeping my family wealthy?" Harry shot back. Grimjaw raised his eyebrows at the indirect compliment. Harry smirked inwardly. Taking the front chair in front of the long draped table in front of the wizened old goblin, he pressed forward. "I am here for my inheritance. I was hoping some help in acquiring my Headship."

The goblin stared at the young wizard in front of him. As young as he looked, the old goblin knew that age was a well-known deception. The calculated tone of the young man in front of him set him on the edge. "Let me go through some files first." Making sure everything was in order; he looked up at his client.

"Everything seems to be in order. Being the last of your family, you can take up Headship on your thirteenth birthday. Would you like to do that now?"

At his client's eager expression, he muttered something incoherent and took out a ritual dagger and bowl. "I assume you know what to do?"

Harry nodded and sheathed the dagger out, putting his right palm over the sharp end of the dagger, pressing it hard until the dagger had drawn out blood and then ran his palm across, smearing the dagger with his blood. Grimjaw was in awe of the boy. He hadn't even flinched once. Said boy... no, young man... had then placed the ritual dagger into the bowl and chanted. "Familius Magicus." A golden and purple flame erupted out of the bowl, flaring out with eldritch energies. Harry placed his bloodied palm into the eldritch flames, said flames kissing his palm's bloodied inner side, until they got absorbed within it, healing his palm. In the center of the bowl were two familiar rings. One was slightly larger and had a gryffin engraved on a purple top, while the other had a basilisk engraved on the green capstone.

Grimjaw looked at his client with a peculiar expression. It was completely unexpected that the Slytherin heritage would just resurge out after centuries of dormancy. Despite the Dark lords' claims, he had never been able to prove his Slytherin heritage... hence the 'heir of Slytherin' propaganda instead of a 'Lord Slytherin'.

"That is... interesting!" the old goblin mused loudly. "But strangely, by your own expression, you seem to be unsurprised by this. Were you expecting this to happen?"

Harry smirked but did not reply. The goblin muttered something in Gobbledygook, which Harry, for all his knowledge, did not know. There were no books on the Goblin tongue. Not even the employees of Gringotts knew how to speak it. Apparently, it meant 'sacred tongue' to the goblins, but wizards had construed its meaning as 'incomprehensible gibberish'. No thanks to Cuthbert Binns and his clever propaganda against goblin culture, even thirty years after his death.

Taking the Potter ring, he placed it in his middle finger in his right hand, followed by the slytherin ring, which he placed, on the adjacent finger. The rings glowed for a moment as a veritable amount of information flowed into his mind from the rings- information about his properties, his important family connections, official secrets and some other nuances. The wards surrounding the Potter properties tuned themselves to him, and he felt the family vaults go active once again.

"I assume you intend to take over your family vault."

Harry nodded. This time he would not let Albus Dumbledore from keeping his family heritage away from him. "My family wills. Do you know anything about them?"

"The only will which I have in my possession is the standard will made by James Potter on his Lordship. According to it, everything is supposed to fall to you and your mother, should she be alive. Fifty thousand galleons were to be provided to Sirius Black, Remus Lupin and Peter Pettigrew each while ten thousand galleons were supposed to be given to Albus Dumbledore and Minerva Mcgonagall. A trust vault of twenty thousand galleons were supposed to be handed over to the guardian of one Neville Longbottom. That is all." Grimjaw read it from the file in his hand.

"Was all of it done?"

"No. This will was never executed in public. Sirius Black was imprisoned; Remus Lupin out of the country and Peter Pettigrew was dead. The heir of the family, that is You were not to be found. Since majority of the people named in the will were absent, this will was not activated as is clause. The situation held the same for a year, after which your family vaults went into dormancy until this very moment."

"Very well. I am taking everything into my own hands. I suppose I am emancipated now that I have acquired Headship?"

"You have, but the emancipation is temporary. You will have to stay for one complete year without the government ruling your emancipation as void. If things continue unfettered for a year, you can assume permanent Headship and complete emancipation, though you will have to wait till you are nineteen in order to take up your Potter seat in the Wizengamot."

Harry's eyes widened at Grimjaw's choice of words. "What about the Slytherin seat?"

Grimjaw grimaced. "The Slytherin family is one of the families prior to the establishment of the Wizengamot, and thus the normal rules do not levy to them. Once a slytherin lord, always a slytherin lord. However, once again, the emancipation rules hold the same. You must not, under any circumstances, be declared underage by the Ministry within the time of one year."

Harry nodded. "I shall, take care of it. I would like to visit my vaults."

* * *

After a visit to the Potter family vault and the Slytherin vault, he had become the owner of a standard money pouch and an old family multi-compartment trunk (specifically, his grandfather's trunk). His grandfather Lord Charlus Nathaniel Potter was an Unspeakable for thirty years of his life before he settled down to play politics on the Wizengamot. Despite the fact that Harry had become a dark lord and ruled over Magical Britain for over three years, he had never known all of this, courtesy to Albus Dumbledore. When Voldemort had invaded Gringotts in Harry's seventh year, the death eaters had plundered it and taken away the contents from the vaults of light families—the Potter Vault being one of them. It was a shortsightedness on his part that he had underestimated the goblin war machine. After all, for all their greediness and their facility with accounts, the goblins were vicious warriors. Voldemort had won, Gringotts had been destroyed but along with that, one-third of Voldemort's forces were decimated. Apart from him, only a score of his death-eaters had remained standing on their feet.

That was before he had the crazy idea of summoning demons.

Harry quickly finished his shopping, complete with his robes and other supplies, for school as well as some ingredients for some potions and rituals he would require, and quickly checked them all. Only one thing was left.

A wand.

For all the good that it did, the holly and phoenix wand was a liability. What was the point in having a wand, which was a brother to your enemy? Yes, the priori Incantatem was a good distraction and everything, but even then- it came down to a battle of wills. While he had no qualms over the fact that he could beat Voldy fair and square in a head-on battle, the reverse-spell effect would render him incapable from saving his arse from other forthcoming attacks.

Hence, a wand.

Harry wandered into the deeper corners of Knockturn alley, and soon found the shop he was looking for. 'Elgart's wandcrafters.'

 _Found it._

Forty minutes later, a hooded Harry Potter walked out of the wand shop, two hundred galleons less and the proud owner of two dragon-hide wand holsters and a new wand- one with Deathwood as the material and an ice-dragon heartstring as the core. The wand crafter had mentioned that the wand was suitable for any kind of offensive magicks, whether it be dark arts or plain curses. His holly wand had also undergone some changes. Ever since he had fused with his younger self, his magic had changed slightly, something about which the elf had commented previously. Owing to that, he had to make certain additions to his holly wand-precisely, the holly had to be changed with basilisk ivory. It had involved him calling a hyperactive Dobby and popping back to the Chamber of Secrets, to pick up the broken basilisk fang lying there in the heart of the Chamber. Dobby had been anguished to hear that his master had to fight against the big bad snake and that Dobby had unintentionally harmed him more than he knew. The poor elf was wailing with distress until Harry had to command him to be silent and leave for Potter manor. A small amount of Harry's blood had been required for acquiring some sort of stability between the two opposing magical substances-apparently, phoenix feather and basilisk ivory were at odds just like the creatures themselves were.

* * *

Apparating back at Potter Manor, he was visited (read stalked) by an anxious Sirius Black and an anguished elf, who was still distressed over the fact that he had created problems for the good great Harry Potter, the greatest wizard in the world. Harry mused that the elf was just one-step away of plain falling down on his knees and downright worshiping him. It would be quite embarrassing.

"Padfoot! I have contacted a mind-healer from abroad, and he has fixed a schedule for your mind-healing sessions. You will have to leave early tomorrow morning. Sirius looked depressed by the news, nothing surprising really. "Is all this really important Harry? I assure you I am quite sane, and everything."

"You mean just like you were whispering to yourself about the Veela coven last day?" Harry asked pointedly. Sirius looked indignant but Harry persisted. "Even if you are perfectly sane and everything, we cannot risk the effects of the dementors on you. Besides, you are still a fugitive. Even if you live here, you will have to stay all alone here in this Manor. At least in France, you will be able to enjoy the country. I have... arranged matters so that you will not face any problem."

Sirius looked at Harry closely. The way his godson talked, it reminded him scarily of one single person. Lucius Malfoy. The same confident tongue, the underhanded way of manipulation, everything. "Harry... did the Hat, perchance want to put you in Slytherin?"

Harry smirked at his godfather, amused. "Return back from France, and I will answer your question. Besides, I have arranged you one weekend at a Veela massage parlor over there." It was the killer move and he knew that Sirius had fallen for it, what with the way the older man's eyes widened in awe. It was a surprise that he had never seen the hidden insanity of his godfather in his previous timeline. Perhaps that was because he had only stayed in contact for a couple of days in the summer.

Dumbledore.

Harry grit his teeth. That old fool was responsible for many problems. This time, he would not let him destroy his efforts to pull Magical Britain out of the ever-deepening hellhole it was in. The corrupt Ministry would have to go. The bigoted mentality would have to go. The second-chances and over-puritanical Headmaster would have to go.

 _I am Magical Britain's reckoning._

* * *

Ron Weasley was confused. To be honest, he was usually in transition between confusion and hunger, but there was being confused and then there was being 'confused'. In this case, it was the latter. He was confuse over his best friend's actions lately. Ever since their altercation with Peter Pettigrew and Black, his friend had... changed. For one, he was not on the train. At least if he was, he had skillfully avoid him and Hermione; which raised the question why. Why would Harry do that? He was Ron's best friend, after all. It was moments like this that an odd feeling tended to rise inside the depths of his heart.

Anger.

Harry Potter—the boy who lived. Ron Weasley's best friend. Harry Potter had everything, but him? He only had one thing to say for himself- he was Harry Potter's best friend. Harry Potter came from an ancient family, had more money than his dad could make in three lifetimes, had the ear of the Headmaster, was the seeker for Gryffindor, had met with the Minister of Magic on two separate occasions, and now he even had a godfather to himself. Ron just had one thing—he was Harry Potter's best friend. Yes, he had to share that position with Hermione but still, he was his best mate.

Ron Weasley was not a pragmatist, nor was he a kind of person who would spend time in introspection. If anything, he hated being introspective, for usually it would make him disheartened and angry. Every time he thought about his life, it pained him. It pained him that he was one of six brothers, all of whom were good at something or the other. Bill was a talented curse-breaker. Charlie was in Romania, taming dragons. Percy... well he would do a Ministry job for sure. Fred and George, they were thinking of starting a joke shop. Even Ginny got more attention since she was the seventh child in seven generations who was a girl. She was spoilt rotten. Ron was just, Ron.

What was he good at? Wait, chess was one. Unfortunately, chess was not something you could make money in the Wizarding world. Harry had told him about muggle chess tournaments in which the players made a lot of money, but if Ron was honest without himself, he did _not_ really like associating with muggles. The fact that his dad was so pro-muggle sometimes grated his nerves.

There was another thing he was good at. That thing was being informative about Quidditch. He could swear that he knew more about Quidditch records and history than of the Quidditch team members, including their ex-captain Oliver Wood. Despite that, he was not included inside the team- not in his first year, nor the second nor the third.

It was... insulting.

At least the Quidditch cup was coming. His dad had gathered up some cash and had bought Quidditch tickets for everyone, including Harry. Now only if that boy would be good enough to contact them. For Merlin's sake, Harry was grating his nerves more than ever. Not that he wanted it to be such. Harry, for all his flaws, was a good friend. The fact that he got a lot more respect among others because he was buddies with Harry fucking Potter just added to the sweetness.

"Ronnie! Get in! Lunch is ready!"

Ron smiled. He always felt good about lunch. "Coming, mum!"

* * *

Harry spent the rest of the day with his godfather, chatting with the older man about his parents, about the pranks they played on everyone and especially Snape, whom Sirius was bent on referring to as 'Snivellus'. When Harry had inquired about the origins of that particular name, Sirius had explained how Snivellus was always sniveling in front of the other wannabe Death-eaters like Lucius Malfoy and Rudolphus Lestrange. The fact that Snape had been the one to kill Dumbledore never really left Harry's mind. For all his flaws, the old man was a fearsome wizard, one who stood on almost equal footing with Voldy when it came to power and experience. After Dumbledore's death, Voldemort had moved in swiftly and captured the fortress, killing off Mcgonagall and Flitwick, although the half-goblin had managed to take down Snape and Rudolphus before his fall.

 _This time things will be different. This time Sirius will live. This time, Hogwarts will not fall._

 _This time I will save her._

"Sirius?"

"Yeah Prongslet?"

"After you are free, what are you planning to do?"

"You mean apart from the coven of Veela plans?" Sirius asked enthusiastically.

Harry sighed. "Yes! Apart from the Veela coven."

Sirius' face changed into a thoughtful mood. "I will...need to update my will. My trust vault... it contains a lot of money, both from my inheritance and what I have earned."

Harry looked confused. "What about the Black Vaults?"

Sirius looked perplexed. "Harry, my mother threw me out of the family when I was sixteen. I am not a Black by name. I think."

 _That's confusing._

"Are you sure about that, Sirius? Perhaps you should make it a point to check in with Gringotts."

"If you say so, Harry." Sirius replied hurriedly, trying to end the conversation. Knowing how much Sirius hated his family, he gave in. "The mind-healer informed me that the therapy will continue for four months, hence the only time we will be meeting next will be during Christmas I suppose." Harry mused loudly, knowing fully well that with the Triwizard happening, he would be meeting with Sirius much sooner.

* * *

 **Somewhere in a village called Little Hangleton.**

The Riddle manor was easily the largest building in the entire muggle village. The old Manor was almost dilapidated, with only one single caretaker—one Frank Bryce who had a history of serving the family and even though the family was now dead for fifty years. The old window frames shook for a while, and suddenly, the room filled with a surge of wind, blowing the dust off.

A sudden flash and a dazzling white light manifested in the middle of the room, as a portal opened out of nowhere. Another flash and an elder-looking man stepped out of the portal. His red chestnut hair completely unruly, his face still having a couple of freckles on it. His brown eyes, shining with uncontrolled malice. His face shone with some kind of eldritch power as he shook his shoulders, flexing his muscles.

Quickly casting a tempus spell, he checked the time. "Riddle Mansion, how... _exciting!_ "

He crossed the creaking stairs, which groaned as he walked over them. It reminded him of a time long, long ago. It almost seemed like a different time altogether.

The front door on top of the stairs opened with a creak. A haggard looking, short-statured man peeped out. Finding no one, he opened the door completely. Even from a distance, the man's face looked almost rat-like.

He smirked. It seemed Peter Pettigrew was as much of a _loser_ as he had known. He whipped his wand towards the rat-faced man. One dark crimson flash later, Peter Pettigrew lay bound on the floor in chains. Smirking he went up, opening the door and crossing the corridor and entering the room opposite it.

"Wormtail, who is it?" A penetrating voice called out.

He smirked. Entering the room, he faced the tiny miniature baby with the glowing red eyes.

"Who are you?" the baby asked dangerously, his red eyes glowing with red energies. The man smirked, his eyes shining with mirth as he slowly extended his wand arm out. His black wand held carelessly in his right hand, _the holly and phoenix feather wand_ throwing out red sparks as he looked at the dark lord in the eye.

"Who are you?" The dark lord repeated, now almost at an edge, knowing how vulnerable he was at the moment.

"Lord Voldemort. I'm glad to finally meet you again." His wand arm flexing as his robe fluttered, revealing the extravagant symbol on his hand.

A skull with a snake coming out of it.

"My Lord." The man smirked as he knelt in front of the baby. "I come from the future. Your future."

"Why?"

"To make sure that Harry Potter suffers, to make sure that the world burns with him."

* * *

 **### That's for the third chapter guys! Hopefully this story appeals to you. Can you guess who the stranger from the future is? As always, please review. If anyone has any suggestions for the story, do tell me. Either in reviews or in PM. Thank you.**


	4. Chapter 4 : Hallows and Horcruxes

_"Who are you?" The dark lord repeated, now almost at an edge, knowing how vulnerable he was at the moment._

 _"Lord Voldemort. I'm glad to finally meet you again." His wand arm flexing as his robe fluttered, revealing the extravagant symbol on his hand._

 _A skull with a snake coming out of it._

 _"My Lord." The man smirked as he knelt in front of the baby. "I come from the future. Your future."_

 _"Why?"_

 _"To make sure that Harry Potter suffers, to make sure that the world burns with him."_

* * *

"The Future?"

The redheaded man smirked. "Yes, my Lord. The future. Your future." He kneeled in front of the homunculus form of the Dark Lord and looked up. "I am afraid it does not turn up very well for you in the future, my lord."

Voldemort felt a surge of anger, but it was replaced by curiosity and to some extent, fear. The Potter boy had been his bane even as a toddler. The boy had been his bane at eleven-years-old. There was no way to ensure the brat would not pose a suitable threat for his world-dominance plan. Unless of course...

"I assume you come with suitable information..." The homunculus spoke in a grating voice, his eyes glowing brightly. He knew that in this form, his powers were suitably reduced; the only power he could effectively utilize while in this form was Legilimency and possession. Neither of them of any help in presence of a powerful wizard.

"Who are you?"

"My name is not important, my Lord. What is important is the information I bring for you."

 _He dares shove his opinion on my face! The atrocity..._

"Tom Marvolo Riddle, otherwise known as Lord Voldemort, killed by three demons on June 29th, 2001. His horcruxes destroyed by Harry Potter and associates-" He enjoyed the look of shock the dark Lord gave him as he mentioned horcruxes.

"Horcruxes? How—how do you know about them?" the dark lord looked practically scared and anguished at the thought of the loss of his priceless horcruxes. His means of defying death—his anchors to the mortal realm—his measures for living forever-

"Are you perchance... feeling scared, my Lord?" the man's lips quivered in amusement.

"Tell me everything." The dark lord yelled in exasperation and fear.

"Of course."

* * *

Harry apparated in front of the dilapidated Gaunt shack, his magical senses on high alert. He was still quite far away from Riddle manor, and had no idea if Voldemort was already there or not. The desire to apparate into the Manor and burn the homunculus was driving him crazy, but he digressed. The horcruxes were of higher priority after all. He would destroy the horcruxes first, and then kill the dark bastard. It was ironic that Voldemort was actually a bastard, he mused, what with his squib mother trying to potion his muggle father and all.

Standing in front of the Gaunt shack, he waved his wand, trying to make out the protections present there. Marvolo Gaunt would have been happy to know that his last descendant had seen fit to hide something as precious as a soul-shard inside this dilapidated shack. If not for the magic sustaining it, the shack would have already fallen to dust.

 _An intent ward coupled with a Parseltongue-based protection ward. Altogether decent stuff!_

A few swishes later and the wards neutralized, he strode towards the front door. It was almost too easy. The door opened with a creaking noise, and just as he was about to enter, a dozen adders leapt at him from the inside, baring their fangs. Harry was surprised at the sudden attack, but a well-timed _Immobulus_ solved the problem. That and a few Parseltongue commands later, he strode towards the center of the room, his eyes staring at the loose chunk of marble on the floor.

 _The ring is hidden beneath it._

He whipped his wand in an anticlockwise curve and then pulled it off in a tangential flick. It was a standard procedure for curse breaking. Knowing very well that this was the very place where the rotting curse had struck Dumbledore, Harry decided that taking precautions was better than anything else was. As he anticipated, the slab glowed purple, proving that his suspicions were correct. The stone slab held some kind of concealing charm, charmed to prevent other people from sensing what lay beneath it. A quick Reducto later, the stone was flattened to dust, baring the wooden box beneath it.

 _Found the son of a bitch!_

Levitating the box out of the hole in which it lay, Harry banished the lid off, revealing the Peverell ring inside it. How ironic that Voldemort would use Harry's own heirloom to safeguard his soul shard! Then again, Voldemort was never really accused of being sensible anyway.

 _That thing really needs a good old washing._

Harry smirked at his own thoughts, as he procured a vial of basilisk venom out of his own robes. Opening the lid, he dropped the venom slowly over the ring. A soul-penetrating howl cried out from the ring, as thick black smoke shot out of it, leaving the ring intact.

 _I just dropped basilisk venom on the ring, and it did not even corrode? Then again, the Peverells made it after all._

The thought had just made it to his brain, when he felt a burning feeling inside him. At first, it did not even matter, but slowly the pain became almost unbearable. Harry shut his mouth hard, trying to not to cry out in agony.

 _What is happen-Ning?_

Then it happened. The ring inside the wooden casket broke into fragments as the stone—the fables resurrection stone levitated out, shining brightly and surrounded by eldritch energies. At the same time, the ring on his left hand began to glow. It was then that the truth hit him.

 _I am carrying the elder wand with me, and now I have another. Two deathly hallows which are the one and then, I am the owner of the Cloak. Oh, fuck!_

The elder wand holstered up his sleeve began to vibrate and heat up, and just as he expected, it shot out of the holster and levitated outside. The cloak snuck out of his robe and levitated out, the three hallows performing almost some kind of weird dance around him, circling him and manifesting grayish mist all around.

 _Is this about being the Master of Death?_

A surge of fear and curiosity got hold of him, as he stood still, only having eyes for the still-revolving items that were circling him. The mist settled around him, manifesting some kind of obscure runic circle upon which a giant triangle seemed to form, with Harry as the centre. He felt the Deathwood wand and his own phoenix wand heat up, almost as if trying to resist the change that was about to happen.

The elder wand of legend was not just any other wand. The Peverells who were renowned necromancers of their times, had sacrificed countless lives to generate enough soul-magic necessary to create three magical items that held in themselves—an essence of death itself. The elder wand was no simple wand—crafted from the wood of the Yggdrasil and covered by purified elder wood, the wand had the blood of the three Peverell brothers as its core. One of its main powers was its ability to magnify the power of the spells cast through it. It was exactly for this particular reason why it was so coveted by wizards—good and bad alike. Whenever a wizard bonded to the wand, the wand extracted out some part of the core of the wizard's own wand and merged it to itself, making itself stronger. It was the reason why the elder wand was compatible with so many masters.

Now however, it had faced a new Master, one who already had a very powerful connection to his own wands, and interestingly, did not covet the powers of the Master of Death. That was what caused a complication. Death was invincible and death conquered all, and so did the Deathstick. However, the two wands of the wizard in this case—the holly and phoenix wand, and the Deathwood-ice dragon heartstring wand, both bonded strongly to Harry, and thus gave in a huge resistance. Finding that said wizard was actually a descendant of the core flowing inside it, the elder wand gave in, fusing with the wizard- the two other wands followed suit, along with the cloak and the resurrection stone. The five items glowed with eldritch energies until they transformed into pure energy and fused with the wizard possessing them.

Harry watched in trepidation as the five magical items transformed into pure energy and get soaked inside him. He felt the energy enter his body and felt his nerves fire dangerously. His eyes glowed an eldritch green as a wave of magical energy lashed out of him, rendering him unconscious.

* * *

"On the night of the third task of the Triwizard tournament, you devised some sort of resurrection ritual which you employed to resurrect yourself back to life. Harry Potter was captured and you used his blood to fuel the ritual, after which you were able to touch him without getting burnt."

"Interesting. I was indeed working on the ritual." The Dark lord mused. "What happened after that?"

"I admit I do not know what exactly happened, since I was absent- but I do know this- Harry Potter was somehow able to fight you off and return back to Hogwarts using the cup as portkey."

"A silly miscalculation. We will have to change that. What else can you tell me?"

The man bowed. "You have to understand, my lord-," the drawling tone the man used reminded him eerily of Lucius Malfoy- "if I tell you too much into the future, it might change things and thus, my knowledge of the future might become obsolete."

Voldemort considered his answer.

"Very well, what else can you tell me, without changing the future too much?"

The man smirked. "After your defeat, the wizarding world faced a new dark lord, one who caused much more devastation than you ever did. The entire International Federation of Wizards, the ICW- the entire federal structure was brought down to dust by the hands of the dark lord Harry Potter."

 _What?_

"That is inexplicable. Harry Potter is but a boy, and Dumbledore's stooge. It is impossible that he would ever become a dark lord, forget becoming someone of the likes of me."

"My lord, I am only giving you the facts of what had happened in the future."

Voldemort sighed. "Very well. Continue."

The man let out an oily smile. "Harry Potter destroyed the demon horde you had summoned, and decimated your forces single-handedly. A month before your death, you sent for me. You told me everything that happened. You told me how I should travel to the past, how I should warn you-you were fearing that soon everything would be over and two hours after your death, I time-travelled to this timeline."

"Can you show me the memories?"

The man bowed low. "I can, my lord. However, I fear it might not be the correct thing to do. Future-You had warned me that you would ask such a thing, and hence he told me something that would prove it to you that my information is authentic."

Voldemort narrowed his eyes, "what information is that?"

The man closed his eyes and stood silent. Then he began muttering the words.

" _Philadelphia, Warren, Caravan, dragon-heartstring, necromancy_."

Voldemort widened his eyes for a moment. Then a sense of calm settled around him.

"I believe you."

The man smirked. "I knew you would consider my situation, my lord."

The dark lord stayed silent, weighing his options. "What do you know about the horcruxes?"

"Riddle's diary, Hufflepuff's cup, Ravenclaw's diadem, your familiar Nagini, Slytherin's locket, the Gaunt family ring... these are the ones you are looking for?"

To say that the dark lord was shocked would be unfair. His red eyes had almost bulged out in fear, knowing that in the future, his arch-nemesis was not only able to dig out information about his own past, but also destroy all the items for good. It was... unfathomable.

"Yes..." he let out, his voice trembling in anger and fear, "those are the ones I am talking about."

The redhead smirked. "You are still _missing_ one, my lord."

Voldemort narrowed his eyes. Diary—Cup—Locket—Diadem—Nagini—Ring; those were his horcruxes; together with his own soul, it made seven. The magical number of stability. However, if this man said that there were more-

"Do you mean to tell me that I created _one_ more?"

"Yes. Your last horcrux is Harry Potter."

"WHAT?"

* * *

Harry opened his eyes reluctantly. His whole body seemed to be aching—even the act of opening his eyes seemed like a pain. At first, it was all blurry with nothing distinct. Then slowly, his memories came to him and his vision cleared.

 _Where am I?_

It was dark. Very, very dark. Harry held out his hand and flicked his wrist, but no wand shot out of his sleeve.

 _Damn!_

He concentrated on producing a _Lumos_ , and a ball of light manifested in front of him. For some reason, maintaining the wandless light spell felt much easier to him than ever. Almost as if, he was _using_ his wand.

He was standing on the edge of a deserted road, one that curved its way sideward, leaving a precipice overlooking a river. There was a broken wooden bridge before him—the centre of the bridge broken and the wood shredded and downright rotten. Harry stepped over the first plank and the bridge groaned, some of the broken planks from the middle falling down into the unending deep bottom below. The planks hit water; he was sure that he felt water splashing beneath.

 _This feels so... familiar._

He took another step, his feet on the next plank, planning to use a levitation charm to levitate himself to the other side of the river. He took a third step, and that was when things begun happening.

The water rose from the bottomless depths- the black murky waters rising up to catch the sky, forming an impenetrable barrier between the two ends of the bridge. That was when it hit him.

 _Merlin!_

A shadowy figure rose high from the blackened depths beneath the bridge and drifted upwards floating towards him. It stopped and then it spoke in a disembodied voice.

"We meet at last, Peverell."

* * *

Harry stood shock, his mind boggled, his body petrified, his eyes almost bound to look straight at the powerful entity drifting towards him. For a dark lord who had ruled over Magical Britain, the feeling of fear and wonder that he was feeling felt unfamiliar to him.

 _Death?_

"Yes, Death I am, the conqueror of worlds. And you, Peverell are the nasty little insect that goes by the name of Harry Potter!"

Harry gulped. He could feel the power and magical energies rolling out of the entity in front of him. It was the same energy that he felt from the elder wand, albeit one magnified many, many times.

"Why do you call me Peverell?"

Death laughed. A grating, disembodied laugh. "Because Harry Potter, that is your true name. You are Peverell, the keeper of my belongings."

 _Keeper?_

"I am not sure I understand,"

Death laughed again. Harry could feel the mocking beneath the cold dry laugh. "Of course you don't. For a dark lord, you still have a lot to learn, Harry Potter."

A frown marring his face, he urged. "Why am I here? What is this place? Is this about the Hallows?"

Death chuckled. "So many questions..." he drawled, "and yet, all unimportant."

Harry gritted his teeth. This entity, Death or not, was playing with him. "What is the blasted important thing then, Death?" he gnashed his teeth in irritation.

"You are here because you have been dealing with powers you have no idea about. You Harry Potter, you broke the laws of time and magic; you fractured the continuity of an old soul, you broke in and diverted the timeline into something different, creating an infinite number of temporal fragments-you are a royal pain in my arse, Harry Potter!"

Harry smirked. For some reason, being chastised from a powerful entity seemed to amuse him. Death continued, "But for all of your flaws, you have done one single thing correct. Your time jump destroyed the entire demon horde, and for that, I am grateful to you."

Harry frowned, uncertain of what Death meant.

"But then again, you caused a new set of problems when you entered this timeline. You created a paradox, for there cannot be two Harry Potters in one single timeline."

Harry frowned. "That's not possible. I merged with my younger self when I entered this time stream. There is only one of me over here."

"FUNNY! WHAT AM I THEN?"

The very familiar voice behind him caught his attention as his eyes narrowed. He glanced backwards instantly to find an angry thirteen-year-old Harry Potter glaring at him.

 _Fuck!_

* * *

"You... but I thought... the ritual was supposed to merge our souls together." Harry stammered uncharacteristically.

"Yes, of course, a soul shard stays with me for sixteen years without merging. I defeat Voldemort's Imperius without batting an eye. Of course there would be no issues when an alien soul springs out of nowhere and tries to merge with me."

 _Was I really all that sarcastic?_

Then a realization hit him. Wait, how do you know all of that? Fourth year hasn't even started."

The younger Harry looks at him with a deadpanned expression. "You come from the future. You take control of my body. You merge my magical core with yours to give yourself a boost. You retain all my memories. And when I get your share of memories, it is unbelievable to you? Damn, was I hit in the head in the future?"

 _This is exactly what happens when a teenager gets the memories of a dark lord._

"Right!" Death deadpanned, "As funny as it is to let the little-You chew You-" both Harrys looked indignantly at the insult- "we are here for more. By coming into this world and activating the Hallows, you have caused a trans-temporal disturbance. As it is, you had acquired the three hallows in your other lifetime too, but did not activate them then-"

"Wait! Why is that?" Older Harry asked. Then, it came to him. "I never defeated Dumbledore then. Draco defeated him by disarming him, and I disarmed Draco- there was no direct fight... was that why? -" he trailed.

"I knew there was a bit of intelligence hiding somewhere deep down!" Death drawled, getting scowls from the two identical-looking Harry Potters. For some reason, it intimidated him slightly.

"That makes two souls- two masters of death residing in the same time-plane, which for all kinds of nuances you have no reason knowing, forces me to make an odd decision. Peverell- he powers of the Hallows are yours to have, use them for your struggles and you-" he looked at the younger Harry, "—will have to fuse completely with him, making it one single, albeit slightly large than normal—soul in the body created for the keeper of the Hallows."

"Wait! You answered why am I here, and everything I asked. But you said that those questions were unimportant. What is the important question? " older Harry asked.

Death smirked. "I am sure you will have fun, finding it out. May you find the peace you desire, Peverell." With that Parthian shot, Death raised his skeletal hands, and the two Harry Potters bodily collided into each other in a huge flash of light.

* * *

Harry Potter woke up from the stone floor of the dilapidated shack, his mind swirling with images of the triangle of the Deathly Hallows. He felt different- his magic was no more searing up and down, but seemed to have reached some form of stability. He seemed to have grown a bit, his face now sharper and aristocratic than previously. The interesting thing however, was the absence of his wands.

The Deathstick, the holly wand and the Deathwood wand- all of them were gone. In their stead, two tiny runic symbols had formed on his left palm— one representing the phoenix and the other representing the ice dragon, etched into his very skin. For some reason, his age line also seemed to have vanished completely. His right palm however had one single line with the runic symbol of a thestral etched in the center. As with the left palm, his age line had disappeared completely.

 _Wonder what this means!_

On a whim, he thought about casting a Patronus, and almost instantly, something surged inside him and a burst of light surged out of his right hand, casting the thestral in full glory. Harry stood gob smacked- to be able to cast a Patronus of all things wandlessly- it was unfathomable.

Smirking, he apparated away.

* * *

"Harry Potter is one of my horcruxes?"

The statement was filled with disbelief. Not just disbelief, it was filled with awe, fear and curiosity.

The man smirked, but he just nodded in reply.

 _This changes things. I always knew that something about the boy was different. That was why entering his mind was so easy. He is my horcrux. But that means-_

 _My own horcrux is bent on killing me!_

"I suppose there is no way to convert Potter into my service, is there?"

The man laughed; his laughter grating on the dark lord's nerves. "No my lord. Harry Potter will never join you. He will need to be destroyed."

 _I will cross that bridge when it is necessary. But wait-_

"When did I, I mean the Me from the future, come to know of this discovery?"

"You never did."

"Then how did you? -" the question remained unspoken. The man seemed to know what he wanted to ask. "My knowledge of Harry Potter is not just dependent on what the Future-You told me, my Lord. You see, in my time-" he lifted off his hood, his brown eyes shining with mirth, "- I was once his best friend, Ron Weasley!"

 _Merlin!_

* * *

 **### And that, ends the chapter. Yeah the guy from the future is Ron Weasley, and I am sure you are wondering what might have happened in the future that led to this. I would love to read your reasoning. As always, do review and hope you enjoyed the chapter.**


	5. Chapter 5 : Discussions and Memories

The house at number 12, Grimmauld Place looked just as haunted and desolate as ever. No matter what the timeline was, some things just did not change. To an outsider, the house was a dilapidated mess of sprawling vines and wild bushes, a rusted iron gate with an uneven garden, which hosted a heck of odd-looking vines and creepers. The doorknob was serpentine—the boys on the street who at times had tried to break into the house somehow forgot what happened to them during their expedition. All they remembered where bulging pale eyes and flattened ears. The rest was... blurry. It was no surprise that the people residing in the outskirts had declared the house as haunted.

Wearing a dark green hooded robe, Harry apparated in front of the street opposite to the ancestral townhouse of the Blacks. Sirius might now know yet that he was still the Lord of his family, but Harry knew it well. If he was right, the house would sense the Black blood in him and grant him access—after all, he had risen to the position of Lord Black after Sirius' death—not that it ever meant anything to him anyway. The townhouse, despite being one of the most warded buildings- next to Gringotts and Hogwarts of course, had been smashed to dust by the demon horde.

Now though...

He strode towards the house, the gates opening on their own, giving him access and confirming his theory—he placed his palm on the doorknob and twisted it open. With a reasonably loud creaking, the wooden door opened. He stepped inside. The room was just as dilapidated as the garden outside. He mused that the Weasley family had indeed worked quite hard in trying to make the house livable.

A sudden pop appeared right behind him and he felt something leap at him. His eyes glowed for a moment, and the attacker was suddenly caught in a body-bind. Bound and unable to move, the attacker profusely resorted to severe use of profanity.

"Mudbloods! Filth! Desecrating the house of my mistress! Kreacher will kill you! Kreacher will-" the attacker, who was no one else other than the demented house elf otherwise known as Kreacher, stopped suddenly, staring at the person who had him bound. After a couple of seconds, he croaked, "Who are you? Kreacher feels Black magic in you, but Kreacher not knowing you. Kreacher is confused."

Harry smirked. "If you can feel Black magic in me, that makes me your master, doesn't it elf?"

Kreacher seemed to hesitate but then he nodded subtly. _Good._

"Very well elf. I am going to release you. However, you are ordered not to attack me. I assure you I am a Black by blood."

Kreacher nodded slowly, as he felt the bindings loosen. "Master is very powerful to do magic without his wand. Kreacher does not know who Master is."

A flash of amusement seemed to float on Harry's lips. "My name is Harry Potter, and I am Dorea Black's Grandson."

"Master be grandson to old mistress Dory?"

Harry nodded subtly. "Kreacher is happy to serve Master." The elf croaked happily.

 _That was easy._

"That is good and all, but Kreacher, there is something I want from you. Regulus Arcturus Black, -" the old elf's eyes widened as he recognized the name- "Regulus left something to you before he died. Something he wanted you to destroy. A locket. Did you destroy it?"

Kreacher looked balefully at him. "Why does master want the locket?"

"I don't want the locket. I want to finish what Regulus started. Did you destroy the locket, Kreacher?"

At this point, the elf seemed to lose all control, as he fell down to the floor, wailing and crying controllably. He took a poker stick on one hand and began beating his head with it. "Bad Kreacher! Bad Kreacher! Bad-"

"Kreacher! I forbid you from punishing yourself. Tell me, where is the locket?" Harry asked, a sternness creeping into his voice. Kreacher looked at him with wide eyes and then popped away, only to return in two seconds with the emerald locket in his hand-, "This is the locket, Master!"

Harry extended his arm and the locket levitated out of Kreacher's hand on its own; said elf clearly in awe at his Master's blatant display of magical power. "When will master destroy it?" he asked hopefully.

"Why now, of course!" Harry mused. "Move away Kreacher, things are going to get quite... _messy._ "

He placed the locket down on the ground, the vial containing the basilisk venom in his hand. A realization hit him, and he stopped midway. "Kreacher, do you have any goblin-forged dagger in the house?"

Kreacher nodded and popped away. Five seconds later, he popped back, carrying an ornate dagger crafted with rubies and sapphires. There was a runic symbol etched on the tip of the dagger, but Harry could not see it, because it was covered with dirt. A cleaning charm later, the dagger looked as good as new. A shocked Harry Potter saw the runic symbol at the dagger's tip.

An Ouroboros. The serpentine symbol of immortality.

 _Such a dagger could only belong to..._

He turned the dagger on the other side. Etched on the surface was a phrase in serpent tongue but Harry could read it as clearly.

 _ **'Fur non insueta subit in eo.'**_

 _ **The thief never steals in an unfamiliar place.**_

 _True..._

Dipping the dagger into the vial, he witnessed how the dagger seemed to draw the viscous venom inside itself. Just as expected, goblin silver imbued anything stronger than itself. This dagger would be a good replacement for the sword of Gryffindor.

He placed the locket on the ground, careful to make sure that no magical artifact was near the horcrux.

"Open!" he hissed, and the locket sprang open, throwing out a veritable cloud of energy and mist. A very familiar lithe figure stood out in front of him. The same golden hair, the same blue eyes, the same... except that the smirk on her lips was so unlike her...

"Don't kill me Harry, you love me, right?"

Harry's hand shook in anger, his mind in a state of shock but his hands refusing to move forward. The woman in front of him looked all the more sensual and predatory at the same time, "I will kill her again! If you kill me now, I will-"

His hand moved suddenly.

The dagger struck the locket in its heart.

A blood-curling scream. A huge black smoke erupted out and in an instant, it was obliterated into dust.

It was over.

* * *

"Master? Is it gone?" Kreacher asked in a murmuring tone.

"Yes."

"Thank you, master!"

Harry sat up straight, his mind still in a flurry of memories, but the most prevalent being one single memory- the very memory of his destroying the very same locket earlier in his timeline.

 **FLASHBACK**

"Anything there?" Ron asked.

"No," said Harry.

"So how did the sword get in that pool?"

"Whoever cast the Patronus must have put it there." They both looked at the ornate silver sword, its rubied hilt glinting a little in the light from Hermione's wand.

"You reckon this is the real one?" asked Ron.  
"One way to find out, isn't there?" said Harry.  
The Horcrux was still swinging from Ron's hand. The locket was twitching slightly. Harry knew that the thing inside it was agitated again. It had sensed the presence of the sword and had  
tried to kill Harry rather than let him possess it. Now was not the time for long discussions; now was the moment to destroy the locket once and for all. Harry looked around, holding Hermione's  
wand high, and saw the place: a flattish rock lying in the shadow of a sycamore tree.

"Come here," he said, and he led the way, brushed snow from the rock's surface, and held out his hand for the Horcrux. When Ron offered the sword, however, Harry shook his head. "No, you should do it."

"Me?" said Ron, looking shocked. "Why?"

"Because you got the sword out of the pool. I think it's supposed to be you."

He was not being kind or generous. As certainly as he had known that the doe was benign, he knew that Ron had to be the one to wield the sword. Dumbledore had at least taught Harry something about certain kinds of magic, of the incalculable power of certain acts.

"I'm going to open it," said Harry, "and you stab it. Straight away, okay? Because whatever is in there will put up a fight. The bit of Riddle in the diary tried to kill me."

"How are you going to open it?" asked Ron. He looked terrified.

"I'm going to ask it to open, using Parseltongue," said Harry. The answer came so readily to his lips that he thought that he had always known it deep down. Perhaps it had taken his recent encounter with Nagini to make him realize it. He looked at the serpentine S, inlaid with glittering green stones: It was easy to visualize it as a minuscule snake, curled upon the cold rock.

"No!" said Ron. "No, don't open it! I'm serious!"

"Why not?" asked Harry. "Let's get rid of the damn thing, it's been months —"

"I can't, Harry, I'm serious — you do it —"

"But why?"

"Because that thing's bad for me!" said Ron, backing away from the locket on the rock. "I can't handle it! I'm not making excuses, Harry, for what I was like, but it affects me worse than it affected you and Hermione, it made me think stuff — stuff I _was thinking_ anyway, but it made everything worse, I can't explain it, and then I'd take it off and I'd get my head on straight again, and then I'd have to put the effing thing back on — I can't do it, Harry!"

He had backed away, the sword dragging at his side, shaking his head. "You can do it," said Harry, "you can! You just have the sword; I know it is supposed to be you who uses it. Please, just get rid of it, Ron."

The sound of his name seemed to act like a stimulant. Ron swallowed, then, still breathing hard through his long nose, moved back toward the rock. "Tell me when," he croaked.

"On three," said Harry, looking back down at the locket and narrowing his eyes, concentrating on the letter S, imagining a serpent, while the contents of the locket rattled like a trapped cockroach. It would have been easy to pity it, except that the cut around Harry's neck still burned. "One . . . two . . . three . . . open."

The last word came as a hiss and a snarl and the golden doors of the locket swung wide with a little click. Behind both of the glass windows within blinked a living eye, dark and handsome as Tom Riddle's eyes had been before he turned them scarlet and slit-pupiled.

"Stab," said Harry, holding the locket steady on the rock. Ron raised the sword in his shaking hands: The point dangled over the frantically swiveling eyes, and Harry gripped the locket tightly, bracing himself, already imagining blood pouring from the empty windows.

Then a voice hissed from out of the Horcrux.

"I have seen your heart, and it is mine."

"Don't listen to it!" Harry said harshly. "Stab it!"

"I have seen your dreams, Ronald Weasley, and I have seen your fears. All you desire is possible, but all that you dread is also possible..."

"Stab!" shouted Harry; his voice echoed off the surrounding trees, the sword point trembled, and Ron gazed down into Riddle's eyes. "Least loved, always, by the mother who craved a daughter ... Least loved, now, by the girl who prefers your friend... Second best, always, eternally overshadowed..."

"Ron, stab it now!" Harry bellowed: He could feel the locket quivering in his grip and was scared of what was coming. Ron raised the sword still higher, and as he did so, Riddle's eyes gleamed  
scarlet. Out of the locket's two windows, out of the eyes, there bloomed, like two grotesque bubbles, the heads of Harry and Hermione, weirdly distorted.

Ron yelled in shock and backed away as the figures blossomed out of the locket, first chests, then waists, then legs, until they stood in the locket, side by side like trees with a common root, swaying over Ron and the real Harry, who had snatched his fingers away from the locket as it burned, suddenly, white-hot.

"Ron!" he shouted, but the Riddle-Harry was now speaking with Voldemort's voice and Ron was gazing, mesmerized, into its face. "Why return? We were better without you, happier without you, _  
_glad of your absence... We laughed at your stupidity, your cowardice, your presumption —"

"Presumption!" echoed the Riddle-Hermione, who was more beautiful and yet more terrible than the real Hermione: She swayed, cackling, before Ron, who looked horrified yet transfixed, the sword hanging pointlessly at his side. "Who could look at you, who would ever look at you, beside Harry Potter? What have you ever done, compared with the Chosen one? What are you, compared with the Boy Who Lived?"

"Ron, stab it, STAB IT!" Harry yelled, but Ron did not move. His eyes were wide, and the Riddle-Harry and the Riddle-Hermione were reflected in them, their hair swirling like flames, their eyes  
shining red, their voices lifted in an evil duet.

"Your mother confessed," sneered Riddle-Harry, while Riddle-Hermione jeered, "that she would have preferred me as a son, would be glad to exchange..."

"Who wouldn't prefer him, what woman would take you, you are nothing, nothing, nothing to him," crooned Riddle-Hermione, and she stretched like a snake and entwined herself around Riddle-Harry, wrapping him in a close embrace: Their lips met.

"RON! STAB THE LOCKET!" Harry roared.

Then, something strange happened. Riddle-Harry and Riddle-Hermione looked back at Harry and transformed into a gorgeous golden haired woman, one whom Harry knew extremely well. There was one difference though. Her eyes, which were usually bright blue, were now crimson and pulsing with anger.

" _If you kill me now, I will haunt you forever!"_ she stated firmly.

Perhaps the break was all that Ron needed, for he roared up in anger.

The sword flashed, plunged. Harry threw himself out of the way; there was a clang of metal and a long, drawn-out scream. Harry whirled around, slipping in the snow, wand held ready to defend  
himself, but there was nothing to fight. The monstrous versions of himself and Hermione were gone. It was completely empty.

There was only Ron, standing there with the sword held slackly in his hand, looking down at the shattered remains of the locket on the flat rock. Slowly, Harry walked back to him, hardly knowing what to say or do. Ron was breathing heavily. Harry stooped, pretending he had not seen, and picked up the broken Horcrux. Ron had pierced the glass in both windows.

 **END OF FLASHBACK**

Harry picked himself up, and strode out of the dilapidated Manor. Ordering Kreacher not to mention that he was ever there, and to clean the damned house, he apparated away.

* * *

"I have one question, Ronald. If you are whom you say you are, then how are you here? Temporal machinations cannot allow more than one copies of one soul in one timeline."

Ron Weasley smirked. Sometimes he wondered how easily the expression came to his lips—how ironic considering his irrational hatred for everything Slytherin. More ironic was the fact that his once best friend Harry Potter, once held the position of the Lord Slytherin and now he himself was a death eater, a servant to someone who was also an heir of Slytherin.

 _A servant in ways more than one._

"That would be because... there are certain... _changes_ shall we say, in me that helps me stay in this timeline despite an actual Ron Weasley being out there with Harry Potter."

"Do you think that your doppelganger could be an ally?"

Ron nodded briskly. "No, my Lord. In my fourth year, I was very... Gryffindorish. It will not even be a good move. We can safely assume that it won't work."

Lord Voldemort mused. This time traveler had put a wrench in his plans but at least it was for his own good. Besides, it was nice having someone, who had the ability to think and make decisions. The fact that his future-self had _trusted_ him so much as to travel back in time, still gave him creeps.

 _How did I actually begin to trust someone so much? What is so special about this person?_

He looked at the man sitting on the chair beside him. The man's behavior, it was... slippery. In a weird kind of way, it reminded him eerily of himself. Perhaps that was why his future-self had trusted him enough to tell him everything? Moreover, time-travel? It was something he could not even fathom. A few hours to a few days was one thing- but decades... It boggled the mind.

Despite everything, something felt odd about this person.

Something... inexplicable.

"Tell me Weasley, do you know where my horcruxes are, at this moment?"

Ron hesitated for a moment. "No, my Lord. I just know what they are, not where they are. Though there is one particular information that I can aid you with. The locket."

"The locket? What about it?" Voldemort asked- the wildness in his voice completely at odds from his usually calm demeanor.

"The locket was stolen by Regulus Black, my lord. As per my knowledge, its current residence is in the Black townhouse at Number 12, Grimmauld Place."

Not for the first time the dark lord was frustrated over being limited in the form of a homunculus. "We need to get that locket out to safety." He admitted openly, his fear taking over his cunning.

"As unfortunate as it is, my Lord. That is not quite possible. The wards at Grimmauld Place are Hogwarts' level, perhaps a tad more offensive. I cannot even imagine what would happen if we were to force our way into the building." His sly smile returning to his face, "but my Lord, Harry Potter is still a fourth year. We can always undertake our expedition after your resurrection. After all, I am not _that_ strong enough to do it all by myself."

For some reason, Lord Voldemort did not believe the man.

"Very well." Not for the first time, Lord Voldemort reminded himself that bad things happen to those who mess with time.

* * *

 _Three horcruxes down! No wait! Four horcruxes down... Me, Locket, Diary and Ring. Now the only ones that remain are the diadem, the cup and Nagini. After that, Voldemort is free game._

 _Diadem... I can get that at Hogwarts._

 _The cup... I will have to talk with Grimjaw about it. Perhaps an arrangement could be made or something._

 _Nagini... no idea. I will have to try to kill her and Voldemort both together._

 _Crap! It was supposed to be quick._

Harry Potter stood up from the ground, his dark pristine robes fluttering in the air as he stood barefooted in the lush green grounds of Potter Manor. He closed his eyes to feel the air kiss his cheeks. He felt a rush of energy flow towards him and brush against him, inundating him along the way. Somewhere deep in his memories, a lost voice resounded...

 _ **I love you...**_

Harry opened his eyes.

"I love you too. Now and forever..."

* * *

Going into Hogwarts during the summer holidays was an idea Harry did not take delight in. He knew that the old man must have known that he did not return to the Dursleys, and was perhaps conducting some kind of 'national Harry Potter search' using his blasted 'Order of the fried Chicken!' He had lived for so many years, fought multiple wars, time travelled and done so much, but even now, he never understood the real need of a group like the Order. For one, they never did anything constructive. Dumbledore and his theory of give second chances to everyone and their uncle' was a royal pain; and then again, the order members were puritanical people who would only stun in response to a Cruciatus. Was it any surprise that Voldemort had almost won the first war hands-down?

The Order of the Phoenix! Harry snorted. All that the Order did was stalk him and guard the gates of the Department of Mysteries. It was not surprising that they failed miraculously at both. They guarded him, but never did anything to stop the Dursleys from torturing him. They guarded the Department of Mysteries, but when the actual time came- six school-kids had to do their fucking job for them. As it was, the Order members arrived almost an hour after the battle had already begun.

Order of the Fried Chicken indeed!

No matter what, going to Hogwarts in the summer was totally a bad idea. Almost worthy of his former self- that is to say, practically Gryffindorish. He would have to settle for something productive.

An idea formed in his mind, one that brought an instant smirk floating on his lips.

 _The Quidditch World Cup!_

His fingers twitched for some blood and gore. The death-eaters would not know what hit them. His thoughts shifted to Weasley and Granger- pathetic wastes of life and magic... no wait! He could not afford to kill them now, after all—they hadn't disagreed in public yet. But then again, if he did—nobody would ever point fingers at him. Perhaps he should-

 _I need to think about it. Voldemort is the priority, followed by Fudge and Dumbledore. After that, Weasley and Granger will get the taste of the forbidden fruit._

 _Better!_

He looked at his hands. Ever since he had become the owner of the hallows, - he still refused to call himself Master of Death for some weird reason-an alternative was to call himself as Peverell, which he adopted. It was a good case of plausible denial. What if Peverell was the one behind all the assassinations...? Harry Potter would be out of the case, while the law enforcement would hunt for Peverell.

 _I will need an alibi, and importantly, one simple trinket._

His lips twisted to form a cruel smirk.

 _Time to invade Knockturn Alley again._

* * *

The small shack next to the shady pub in Knockturn Alley, also known as ' **Enchanting incantations!'** was one of the shadiest places in entire Knockturn Alley. One could technically; buy anything and everything over there, provided one had the money to pay the ridiculous price quoted. It was not a good option but it was the best he had. Of course killing the people and taking the trinket was an alternative but then... an _interesting_ source and contact would be lost forever.

 _No death; no dismemberment; no permanent injuries._

 _How boring!_

He entered into the shady shack, his hood covering his face as usual. It would not do for anyone to recognize him. He had even applied some glamour charms and carried a fake wand in his pocket. It wasn't truly a fake one, it was just a wand made of holly in which he had poured a few drops of his own blood to act as the magical core. While it looked exactly like his original holly wand, the core meant that it would work _only_ and only for him.

Nothing like a simple deception.

"What do you want?" the owner seated behind the table grunted. He had a gravelly voice.

"My wife is complaining that I am too busy working. I think I need more... _time_. Can you suggest me something?"

The man behind the glass widened his eyes, as he understood the true motive of the answer, and nodded subtly. Then he replied. "Yes my brother, time is very, very costly. Those who lose it once, don't get it back even for thousands of galleons."

Harry smirked. "I won a lottery last week. Perhaps you could show me something that would solve my problem?"

A smirk flitted across the owner's face. "Wait here." He entered into the shack, and after a few minutes of anxious waiting, he took out a small golden locket.

"Gift this to your wife. Tell her it costs seventeen thousand. Costly no doubt, but perhaps you can try to come home five hours yearly? After all, happy wife, happy life my friend."

Harry smirked.

"True that."

* * *

 **### My second chapter for the day. two chapters in a couple of hours! I know my record is 5 chapters a day, but perhaps someday I will beat it. Anyway, enjoy this chapter. And of course, reviews please. I am trying to write a thriller and I need thrilling reviews my friends.**

 **Thanks.**


	6. Chapter 6: Fleur Delacour

Fleur Delacour was annoyed. No scratch that, she was infuriated. Her father—the big bad Sebastian Delacour might be the Head of French DMLE, but his post would not, could not save him from her wrath. No, he would be an idiot to even think of such.

Fleur was a Veela. A full-blooded Veela. Even to this date, it amused her about the awkward information that witches and wizards had about Veela. According to proper documentation, Fleur's grandmother was a resident of the famous Veela Covenant of France, and hence a full-blooded Veela. She had married a wizard and thus her daughter Apolline was branded as a half-Veela. In the same process. Fleur was what the wizarding world called a quarter-Veela. She snorted.

 _Imbeciles!_

Veela were Veela. They always bred true and nearly always gave birth to daughters. The daughter of a Veela was a Veela. Not half-blooded, not quarter-blooded. Just Veela. They exhibited all the characteristics of any Veela on the planet. Full stop. How hard was it to understand this simple fact?

 _Imbeciles!_

She strode up towards the mirror. A proud, angelic face looked back at her. The high cheekbones, the full pink lips, the beautiful blue eyes and the refined face all screamed one thing.

 _There is no one like me._

Tossing her golden curls indignantly, she turned back and strode towards the door. Her father should be home by now, and there was no way she would let him convince her not to go to the Quidditch world cup. Threats be damned!

"Papa!" she addressed; said man turning towards her and sighing in resignation. "What did you decide about what we had spoken last evening?"

Sebastian Delacour was a family man. Yes, he was the DMLE head and wielded a vast array of power and resourceful contacts, but if there was one thing that could sway his decision, it was his pretty little daughter—Fleur. Father and daughter had had a yelling session the previous evening about her wanting to go to the Quidditch World Cup and considering how Sebastian had received multiple threats from the bigoted Pureblood lords of the French Assembly of Lords, he was in no way ready to allow his daughter away from his eyes.

"Fleur! You know why-"

"I don't care. Are you letting me go or not?" Her eyebrows raised elegantly at the question, staring at her father in an attempt of intimidation.

"Fleur, I-"

Her eyebrows rose higher.

"Oh come on, try to-"

Her hands went up to her hips in typical interrogation fashion.

"Darn! Fine you can go. But I will go with you!"

"Yayyy!" she screamed joyously, running into her father and hugging him hard. After exactly four seconds, she separated from him and stood straight, in traditional Pureblood manner. "Thank you for granting my request, Father."

She strode away.

Sebastian Delacour looked at her go. His mind began raising doubts about himself once again.

 _How the hell did I become the DMLE Head when all it takes me to get intimidated is a little girl raising her eyebrows?_

* * *

"Fleur? Fleur?"

"What?" The beautiful Veela turned towards her one and only true friend in school. Caroline Beaufort. Silky auburn hair, brilliant brown eyes and her heart-shaped face- Caroline was one of the most beautiful girls in Beauxbatons, second only to Fleur Delacour herself, but then again, she was just a witch while Fleur was a Veela. It was believed that Veela had their ancestors among the celestial nymphs, hence their beauty. There was another, much truer history. The Veela of old were not that different from the Sirens or the mermaids. They would use their beauty to enchant mates and then prey upon them. Centuries of changing had now decreased the inner primal instinct and the Veela of today were a little more than gorgeous women who could change into a beast with wings and throw fireballs from her hands. That killer primal instinct was now subdued, leading to what was known as the Veela Sex trade, second only to the Metamorphmagus Sex trade- an illegal and vile occupation in which wizards captured young Veela women and conditioned them to become sex-slaves. It was similar to some muggle thing- Stockholm something- it was related to the conditioning that led the captives to fall and love and try to please her own captors. Since the Veela were so beautiful and sexual by nature, they made highly enticing targets for the Trade, the most common country to do so being Great Britain.

Was it any surprise that Fleur hated everything about Britain and the English?

"Are you going for the Triwizard Tournament?"

Fleur smirked. "If not me, then who else?" Caroline narrowed her eyes. She knew that her best friend's haughty arrogance was an outer defensive mask for the sensitive and sensual woman inside. Years of taunting and teasing would do that to anyone. She remembered how cute and playful her friend was in their initial years of friendship. She had been witness to the metamorphosis that Fleur underwent, not just physically, but mentally as well. As soon as she hit twelve, her body started changing and by the next year, she had changed from the cute little girl to the gorgeous sexual woman, one who made the boys drool over her as she passed, and the girls to stare at her in discontent and anger. She had witnessed how the other girls blamed Fleur for stealing their boyfriends, and how the boys stalked her every now and then- their overtures and requests ranging from trying to please her to outright demands of sexual intimacy. Fleur had cried on her very shoulder—night after night.

They say that what doesn't kill you makes you stronger. Caroline mused-that was what might have happened to Fleur. She changed—her cute playfulness changed to a cold, stoic mask; her outer beauty changed to pride and her sensitivity got hidden beneath layers of arrogance. Fleur rose to heights within Beauxbatons, much more than anyone of her age had ever been. Madam Thibeaux, the professor of Enchanting, had taken her in as her personal apprentice and Fleur herself was the dueling champion of Beauxbatons for two years, her streak undefeated so far. Now with the Triwizard tournament coming, Caroline was sure that Fleur would be chosen for the tournament—whether she won or lost would make or break her. She looked at her best friend- the proud mask openly displaying the one thought Fleur believed in completely.

 _There is no one like her._

"When is your next class?"

"Master Antonio is coming by the next hour. He believes that by the next year, I shall be ready for the international dueling circuit." It was a statement. She had undergone severe training with Master Antonio, a famous name in the dueling circuit. Not as famous as Filius Flitwick-what with the way the man had won the championship nine times with an undefeated streak- it was one of the main reasons she was so excited about going to Hogwarts. It was a shame that such an accomplished person was a Charms master in Britain—a place which looked down upon him because of his goblin heritage.

"I am personally excited to meet Harry Potter though." Caroline chanted mirthfully. Fleur rolled her eyes. Caroline was one of the many, many girls of her school who drooled upon the dream of bagging _le survivant_ , or as the English called him—the Boy-who-lived. Apparently, living despite having hit with a killing curse does that to you. Not that Fleur would want to be in his place- she would not want to live with a scar on her forehead for the rest of her life- she loved her sensual body too much for that.

 _Imbeciles!_

As far as Harry Potter was concerned, she was least interested. There was a reason he was called the Boy-who-lived. A _Boy_ , not a man. She was Fleur Delacour. Powerful young men fell at her feet, in hope of getting her attention- she did not have time for some imbecile boy with a nasty scar. After all, there was no one like her.

* * *

Peter Pettigrew was inconsolable. He had hid from the rest of the wizarding world as a garden rat, living on the scraps of the Weasley family for over a decade; had fought the angry Sirius Black and the werewolf and escaped Hogwarts, only to find his Master hiding in the outskirts of the forbidden forest. He had undergone great pains to ensure that his Master was able to get a perfect homunculus for his resurrection, some kind of ritual about which he was still ignorant.

And now, this redhead from nowhere had come and taken over—what could have been his place. Right beside the dark lord.

Peter Pettigrew was no fool. He knew that the dark lord treated him as a menial servant. Then again, the dark lord treated all his followers as his servants. Despite that, Peter had aspired, Peter had toiled and attended to the dark lord's every whim- but now, he was cast aside- rendered useless. The redhead was now the dark lord's favorite.

 _Bastard!_

"I will aspire. I will show the dark lord that I am his most faithful follower." Peter vowed. "And if I can't, I will arrange things as required."

* * *

Inside the dark study room of Riddle Manor, the dark lord sat on his long chair, his red eyes glowing in the darkness. The redheaded time-traveler, Ronald Weasley sat on a smaller chair a few steps away from him, twirling his wand in his fingers.

"What is the core in your wand, Ronald?"

Ronald smirked. The dark lord was quite... in a habit of asking questions that would make himself even more befuddled.

"Holly and phoenix feather!"

The dark lord raised his eyebrows. Together with the red glowing eyes and the dramatically frightening environment in all room, it made him look even more menacing.

"Show me!"

"Of course, my lord!" Ron handed the wand to the dark lord, who let out a gasp of surprise. "This is my- no wait, it feels slightly different. But this wand... it feels so familiar."

"It should. After all, your wand and mine... are brothers." The dark lord glanced at him so sharply that his neck almost snapped. "Come again?"

"This wand carries the feather of Dumbledore's pet phoenix. You would be interested to know that the very same phoenix gave out one more feather. Just one more."

"The one in mine?"

Ronald nodded silently. "At present, Harry Potter owns the holly and phoenix wand. Unlike souls, wands however can exist in the same time-line without any problems. This wand-" he pointed, "—belonged to the Harry Potter of my world."

"But you have it now. Did you overpower him and take it?"

"No, my lord. I stole it. Let's just say that there are some... _changes_ in me that enable me to wield that wand without any resistance."

Not for the first time, the dark lord cursed himself for his ever-growing curiosity. Every time he asked something crucial, he would be shocked. It showed him how intricate the world of magic truly was. Despite him being a dark lord, there was still so much to learn. His ignorance was exactly what made him fall. Hubris!  
It was ironic how he was preparing himself to fall again. The lack of information on Harry Potter was staggering. The boy shared a brother wand, and that meant- Priori Incantatem. The reverse-spell effect would act as an effective neutralizer, locking them both in a battle of wills. But then again-

"Tell me Ronald! Where do your skills lie in?"

Ronald Weasley smirked. "Curse-breaking, my Lord, and also in stealth."

"Very well. If what you told me is right, then we need to make some changes in the plans for this year. I have something for you to do."

"My lord, I am all ears."

* * *

Harry strode out of Potter Manor. Everything was going great so far. Four horcruxes down, one within reach inside Hogwarts. One in Gringotts and the final two pieces of the bastard were always together, though he would have to wait for an entire year to obliterate the last two.

 _One entire year._

At least, he would be at Hogwarts. Between killing off death Eaters, fighting dragons and winning over his lost love's heart once again- there was plenty of work to do. Yes, Hogwarts will not be boring.

 _I hope._

One advantage about being the dark lord that he was- was that it gave him a huge arsenal of spells. The organizers of the Triwizard were going to get one damned show that much was sure. In addition, this time he would get enough time to win over her affections.

 _I wonder if she will still regard me as a little boy._

His mind wandered- the memories of the lost world rising up in his mind space- it had all begun on his fourth year.

 **FLASHBACK**

 **November 25. The day after the First Task.**

Harry was flying on his Firebolt, his death-defying moves on full display as he carried on his rendezvous- he swerved up high towards the heavens, so high that he was just one small dot from the ground and then all of a sudden, he shoved downwards at breakneck speed, his hands focused on the professional broomstick. Any other person would have been hell scared at the way he was falling down, dashing towards the ground but for Harry—it was just some good fun, and a bit of an adrenaline rush. Just one foot above the ground, he swerved his broomstick perfectly, demonstrating a Wronski feint that would have put many professional seekers to shame. Had this demonstration been in a Quidditch stadium, he would have faced a thousand standing ovations. However, he was alone in the Quidditch field, well perhaps not so much alone, for there was one single person who let out an almighty shriek, seeing his fall.

Not allowing the sudden shriek from deviating his focus, he expertly swerved his broom, bringing himself back to the world of reasonable safety, and found himself looking straight into the eyes of one shocked and anxious Fleur Delacour.

"WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?" she shrieked.

Harry mused. That was strange. Fleur Delacour, worried about him?

"I was just having some fun. I do it all the time."

"You could have died." The concern was still there, and interestingly, the French accent was _completely_ missing. This was quite contrary to the _Fleur Delacour speech_ he had been witness to, for quite a lot during the year.

"I do it all the time." Harry repeated. Not for the first time, he wished he had some poise.

Fleur muttered something incoherent but Harry could make out two definite words out of it-'English' and 'imbecile'. Keeping the smirk off his face, he urged. "You don't really like staying here in Britain, do you?"

Fleur did not reply but her scowl gave her feelings away.

"Why did you come then?"

"I intend to win the tournament. Now, I find that there are four instead of three competitors. Bloody English, can't even secure a single goblet." A quick string of cuss-words and profanities in rapid French followed that statement, but Harry could not make out what it was.

"Is that why you speak with that French accent, every time? It's completely absent right now, you know."

Fleur looked at him with 'a deer caught in the headlights' look, and then a small smirk fit himself over her lips. "You can say that."

"No offence, but why exactly are you here? I have never seen you anywhere without your school mates?"

"I like spending time alone. Besides, I wanted to... uhm..."

"Yes?" Harry urged.

 _Why is this so difficult?_ She thought. "Fine. I wanted to apologize for my words and actions since the events on Halloween. I was wrong and I have been a right bitch to you all this time, and I want to make things right."

Harry gave her an odd look. Ever since he had entered into the wizarding world, he had known a lot many people—made friends, made enemies, talked, quarreled and so much more. People cast him out as a wannabe dark lord one day and next week he was the talk of the town. He was glorified, saddled, vilified, used, and manipulated. Even after it was proved that he was innocent, there was never any one who had come and apologized to him. Ever.

This is certainly new.

"Harry Potter!" he said, extending his hand forward.

"Fleur Delacour! Nice to meet you!" She shook his hand.

 **END OF FLASHBACK**

The memories of what had blossomed from a friendship between two reclusive people into a relationship of mutual care and affection. The two had continued to meet often in recluse, avoiding the media circus pervading the tournament. The Shrieking shack had become their solace- a place away from the rest of the world were the two could be themselves, shedding their masks and being themselves. Fleur, the charming girl—not the proud arrogant Veela and Harry—the witty sarcastic boy, not the Boy-who-lived. A relationship that had endured the passage of time until that one... incident.

The explosion...

"This time, it will be better. Fleur. This time, I will not fail you. I promise." The bluish sheen that shone all around him as the magical vow took effect remained unseen.

* * *

 **Riddle Manor.**

"Wormtail! Have you done what I asked you to do?"

"Yes, Master."

"Ronald, I hope your information is correct. If not, you will face my wrath."

Ronald bowed. "Of course, my lord. I live for your return."

Lord Voldemort closed his eyes. Many things had changed. A month ago, he had thought that waiting for the Triwizard was the best thing that came to mind. Now though... things were different. He now knew of many more intricacies of the connection between himself and Harry Potter. Connections, which he never realized existed. That the boy, his arch-nemesis was one of the very vessels supporting his existence on the mortal realm—it was overwhelming. Ever since he had learned of that, he had perused through all his memories, searching for an information on how to extract a soul from a horcrux.

There was nothing.

Thirteen years had passed, yet there was one single question, to which Lord Voldemort had not found an answer.

 _What exactly had happened when he had fired the killing curse on Harry Potter?_

That damned question... he had thought about it in a million ways, and tried a million arithmantic analysis of what might have happened. Every time he reached an answer, it led to a new vault of answered questions. There was never an answer.

Now. He had information he never had before. One that changed everything.

The boy was a horcrux. A horcrux of Lord Voldemort. He remembered what he knew about the horcrux.

 _ **One of the most abominable creations of applied necromancy is the process of creating a soul-shard, or as Herpo the Foul had named them—the horcrux. Created by the application of the killing curse on a human, this ritual provides the practitioner with a form of conditional immortality. Until the moment the horcrux is safe, the practitioner cannot be killed completely. Even if his body were to be destroyed, the practitioner shall exist as a wraith until he can perform a resurrection ritual and get himself another physical form.**_

 _ **A victim, one who tortured so much that he would want death more than anything else in the world is a requirement. An application of the killing curse on such a victim shall tear the soul apart. The tearing is temporary and unless the horcrux ritual is performed, the torn portion of the soul may attack itself back to the main soul with time.**_

 _ **The soul-shard thus obtained, when transferred to a magical item would make such an item indestructible, vulnerable only to Fiendfyre, basilisk venom and Nundu breath. Whether a full powered elemental spell is detrimental to a horcrux's indestructibility is still subject to speculation.**_

 _Lily Potter... she had begged for death..._

 _ **Please kill me... Not Harry... Take me... Kill me instead...**_

 _He had hit her with the killing curse..._

 _ **Avada Kedavra...**_

 _At that moment, he had six soul-shards... Cup, Diadem, Diary, Ring, Locket and himself._

 _Seven was the number of perfection. Magic revolves around the number Seven. Magic wants to exist in the form of seven..._

 _Could it be possible that because of the circumstances, his soul had automatically ejected a soul shard out of him?_

 _That piece of soul, which had stuck itself to the only magical object in the cottage- the infant Harry Potter, making him as a horcrux._

 _Indestructible._

 _Then, he had fired a killing curse off at his own horcrux._

 _Indestructibility had stood against Death._

 _The overwhelming force had met its match in an immovable object._

 _The killing curse had backfired, losing him his own body._

 _It all made sense now._

 _Harry Potter. Parselmouth. Dard lord._

 _It was not unfathomable anymore. After all, he was a horcrux of Voldemort. Lord Voldemort._

 _Indestructible! Is that what happened to Harry Potter? By becoming a horcrux, did he gain some form of indestructibility? Was that the reason why the future-Me failed to destroy him? Then again, the brother wands. Even my most powerful spell could be neutralized if locked in Priori Incantatem._

It was very troubling.

"Ronald!"

"My Lord!"

"We leave for Bulgaria in two days."

Weasley gave an odd look. "May I ask, why, my lord?"

"It's time I get for myself a new wand. I have heard that Gregorovitch is the best over there."

Lord Voldemort smiled.

* * *

 **### And that makes the sixth chapter. Special thanks to lady Edgecombe for her efforts as usual. Please read and review. The next chapter is due very, very soon.**


	7. Chapter 7 : Mysteries and Bloodshed

**Harry,**

 **Dad's got tickets for the Quidditch World Cup. You coming?**

Harry snorted. Expect Ron Weasley to be blunt about nearly everything. There was only one more person in the wizarding world who was as blunt as Weasley- Victor Krum. However, at least Krum had a sensible head on his shoulders, and he wasn't a blundering betrayer like the one Weasley had turned out to be. he looked back at the contents of the letter.

 **Tickets at home. Hermione is also coming. Reply soon.**

 **Ron.**

Harry weighed his options. Normally interactions with Weasley was something he would keep in his 'would-not-touch-with-a-ten-foot-long-pole' part of his mind. But then again, going with the Weasleys had its advantages. Firstly, it would take him off the grid for viable suspects about what was to happen. The thought still gave him a tingling sense of excitement. Plausible denial and all that- being with the Weasleys would provide him a good alibi. Second and most importantly, it would give him a moment with Fleur. She was there at the Quidditch cup. Perhaps a better first impression this time? Thirdly and lastly, going alone was not an option, for that would raise many uncomfortable questions. He sighed. "Better the devil you know than the devil you don't."

"HEDWIG!"

The beautiful snowy owl gracefully swerved and arced through the air and finally fluttered around him, choosing his left shoulder to perch. Writing an acknowledgement note, he looked up at his familiar friend. "Say Hedwig, up for a flight?"

Hedwig barked in anticipation and forwarded her right claw towards him. Harry laughed and tied the small note there. "Take it to Ron. Will you?" Hedwig hooted in acknowledgement and drifted upwards, her wings stretched out as she flew away towards the Weasley home.

The smile on Harry's face turned into a blank expression.

 _Time to complete a few things._

* * *

 **The Department of Mysteries,  
Ministry of Magic, Great Britain.**

"Director Croaker, you need to come here immediately." The disembodied voice originated from one of the small crystal balls in the director's office. The director-Wilbert Croaker, a man in his sixties with a short trimmed beard and bright intelligent pale blue eyes, stood up and touched the ball, muttering something incoherent and popping off to the location of the source. The director of the Department of Mysteries had served as an Unspeakable for nearly thirty years after which he had been promoted to the post of the Director. Of course, to the rest of the world, he was the face and the Boss of the DOM, but only he and his second-in-command knew that being the Director meant something else entirely. After all, the Department of Mysteries was an autonomous organization whose roots crossed many uncharted territories, much more than even the Minister himself knew about.

They were the connections between the different worlds. They were the relay centre between different timelines. They dealt with the ancient and lost streams of magic, something that would even put someone like Albus Dumbledore into befuddlement.

There was a reason after all, that the Department was known as the Department of Mysteries.

Croaker popped inside the Hall of prophecy, were one of his fellow Unspeakables in charge of the Chronos Division stood waiting for him. The Chronos Division, was could be understood from its name; dealt with things related to time and its effects on magic. The division dealt with active chronomantic magicks like Time-turners and the products of chronologic confluences- in simple terms, prophecies.

"Status?"

"B Omega." Came the direct answer. Croaker paled. B Omega was a situation that simply meant one single thing.

FUBAR. Fucked Up Beyond All Reason.

To be precise, it meant that something had actively interfered with the timeline, causing the breakdown of a chronologic confluence. In simple words, some kind of incident had suddenly made a recorded prophecy go blank.

It was simply unfathomable. Prophecies were incarnations of wild magic, and wild magic wanted to come true. To completely obliterate the path demonstrated by a prophecy spelt disaster. On a side note, it also meant something else.

 _Time Travel._

Someone had travelled back in time, causing an event that had somehow negated the effects of the prophecy, changing the timeline for good. As said earlier, a FUBAR situation.

"Which prophecy was this?"

"E 11."

Croaker hung his head, his glassy eyes shaking in anticipation. As he crossed the corridor and moved into the 'E' line, he hated his gut instincts. It was just as he expected.

"I am declaring this situation as an official secret. Nobody knows about this. Nobody."

The unspeakable Clemens, nodded gravely and asked, "What are your orders about the subject of the prophecy?"

Croaker weighed his options. "Has there been any chronomantic activities recently?"

The man nodded.

"And why wasn't this bought to my notice, earlier?"

"We lost the signal before we could trace the actual site. Sir."

"Hmm. What have you got?"

"There have been a total of four chronomantic disturbances in the recent time-" he summoned a file and read it out. "The first on May 7, 1992. Location- Hogwarts."

Croaker looked up in surprise. Hogwarts. "Continue."

"The second was on May 2, 1993. Location- Hogwarts."

The expressionless face was slowly turning into a scowl.

"The third, May 19, 1994. Location- Hogwarts."

"Is this some kind of joke? A chronomantic event occurring every year almost around the same time-period; and you say you have no data?" Croaker gnashed his teeth.

"With respect sir, the disturbances were less than two seconds, sir. As you well know, it takes us at least eight seconds to trace the origin with precision. However-" the man hesitated before continuing, "—the third event had a larger time period. Four point one nine seven seconds exactly. We were able to confine the trace to a much smaller are this time."

"What was it?"

"The Forbidden forest. More precisely, near the Black Lake."

Croaker rubbed his temples. Investigation at Hogwarts was a messy affair, at least until Dumbledore was there as Headmaster. The old man had a pathological need to dig into every secret he knew about.

"Anything else?"

"Yes sir. We conducted some private searches and received some very specific and odd information."

"As in?"

"May 7, 1992. Hogwarts. There was a small altercation between Harry Potter and Professor Quirinus Quirrel, believed to be possessed by the wraith of Dark Lord Voldemort."

"So he has returned back from Albania! What is the status of the operations Department on this?"

"The Operatives are ready, should you invoke a sting operation." Clemens answered. "The next event. May 2, 1993. There was some event involving Harry Potter, the mythical Chamber of Secrets and some 'heir-of-Slytherin'. The third one, May 19, 1994. Harry Potter was in the very place in presence of Sirius Black, Hermione Granger and a horde of a hundred Dementors."

"Get the girl's memories as quickly as you can. Who saved the boy from the Dementors?"

Clemens gulped. "The report says that Fiendfyre was effectively cast in the forest, burning the Dementors off completely. The essence of a corporal Patronus was also recorded."

Wilbert Croaker stood up. "Let me get this clear. The fourteen-year-old Harry Potter not only cast a corporeal Patronus but also summoned Fiendfyre successfully, against a hundred Dementors?"

"No sir."

"What do you mean?"

"The Fiendfyre was not _summoned_ , sir. It was _cast_. Wielded expertly like no other. The Fiendfyre did not even harm a leaf out of his confined territory."

"HOW IS IT POSSIBLE?"

"I don't know sir."

Croaker rubbed his temples anxiously. First the chronomantic disturbances, then the Prophecy becoming cold, and now this... Something big was about to happen, and events were centered on Harry Potter.

"Where was the fourth event?"

"Little Hangleton. May 22, 1994. Events unknown, but a chronomantic portal was opened from a distant timestream."

 _This complicates matters._

"I want more eyes on Harry Potter. This is an _officio_ command, and independent of ministerial orders. Cleared."

* * *

 **The Weasley Burrow,  
Ottery St. Catchpole.**

Ginny Weasley and the twins were busy de-gnoming the garden, when the familiar snowy owl flew into their property. Knowing what that meant, she rushed back into the house, along with the twins. Ever since the school had given over the previous term, there had been no news about Harry. The previous year too had a similar case, although that was because of the doings of one stubborn elf. This year though, Harry seemed to have _vanished_ off from the train itself.

Hedwig swam into the rickety old wooden house and perched on the dining table, her front claws extended outward in front of Ron who was busy munching his lunch. His food left unfinished, he quickly reached Hedwig and retracted the parchment from her limb. It was a note from Harry.

 **Meet you on the day of the match.**

 **Harry.**

"At least he gave a reply!" Ron mused. Ginny snatched the letter from his hand and read the contents. "It does not say where he is. Reckon Dumbledore knows where he is?"

Ron shrugged.

"I guess I should inform Mum that Harry had replied back. She was waiting for the reply." Ginny replied, and strode off towards the kitchen.

"Right!" Ron grunted, before returning to his lunch. "The match is in two days anyway."

* * *

 **Two days later.**

The Weasley family was engrossed in what seemed to be a noisy mess of picking up and packing some clutter; some bangs because of the twin's inventions; the shrieks and the castigating noises from the mother Weasley and of course the tongue lashing that came from the non-Weasley female in the house- specifically, Hermione Granger.

The packing was halfway ready, and Mr. Weasley was already having some last minute talks with Bill and Charlie Weasley who had returned home for the summer this year (the Quidditch World Cup being hosted in Britain might have been a significant reason for it) and were going to apparate directly to the campsite for the World cup. A near-silent pop was heard and Harry Potter stood on the Weasley grounds, a grin on his face. "Harry!" A chorus of voices resounded at the same time, each being of a different note. The elder Weasleys had a note of relief in theirs, while Bill and Charlie had a surprised tone to them. The remaining plus Hermione Granger had a tone that was a mix of indignation and happiness in them.

"The prodigal son returns." Fred began, while George complemented him, "too right my brother, the great Boy-who-lived returns to the mortal grounds."

"Oh stop it you too." He did not have any problems with the twins. If anything, they were the only ones who had stood on his side. Bill and Charlie had broken off connections with the family after Ron had betrayed him. Arthur had been killed in the fight along with Ginny and Percy. When the dark Lord Potter resurfaced, the twins were the first of many from the light side to join his forces. Molly had taken Ron's side, and refused to believe one word against his own son, resulting in that unfortunate battle between the dark lord Potter and Molly Weasley in which the woman had lost her life.

Harry shook himself off from his reveries and looked at all of them calmly. Years of practicing and learning arcane magic had taught him many new and amazing skills. Severus Snape might protest as much as he wanted, but Harry Potter had finally mastered the arts of Occlumency and Legilimency. One of the powers of Legilimency was a technique known as 'Perception Dilation'- a technique that allowed the practitioner to effectively magnify his thought-processing speed. In that technique, time appeared to slow down, and the practitioner could think, observe add deduce a lot more than usual.

This family had given him love. Then, this family had taken away everything he held dear. This family had saved him from the Dursleys when he was innocent and helpless. Again, this family made him suffer his greatest betrayal.

The dark lord Potter wanted to kill the betrayers. The boy in him wanted to embrace his friends. After all, they had done nothing. Yet.

Harry smiled. "It's nice to meet you all again."

"You have changed." Hermione's accusatory tone pierced the entire crowd. Harry looked sharply at her, and for the first time, Hermione felt somewhat... intimidated at the bright emerald glow in his eyes.

"Harry? Where are your glasses? Merlin, you have grown! Are the Dursleys taking good care of you?" The mother Weasley intervened.

"I am not staying at the Dursleys anymore Mrs. Weasley. I am staying in my Family manor. It is unplottable and everything and hence quite safe."

"Your family manor? You didn't tell me you had a family manor!" Hermione almost screeched. "I didn't know. I got to know it in the summer." Harry refuted back.

"Well I think we should at least check it out once, see if it is really safe and everything." Molly began, but Harry cut her off, "that won't be possible Mrs. Weasley. The wards will not allow anyone not of Potter blood to enter, and I do not really know how to tune the wards yet. I am hoping to study them during the year."

Molly wanted to refute back but Arthur placed his hand on her shoulder, the gesture clear and well received. "If you think so, harry. I cannot help but care about you."

 _Was it because of care that you fought me?_

"Sure. Mrs. Weasley." Harry ended the discussion.

All this while he had kept a sharp eye at Ron. The youngest redhead boy's face had turned into a scowl as soon as the words 'family' and 'manor' had entered his ears. It was all over the same again.

"You have a manor? All to yourself?" If his face had not turned slightly green with envy, the question could have been considered as quite innocent.

"Yes Ron. I have a manor to live, and I live there all by myself. No parents, remember?" Harry answered with a sarcastic tone distinct in his voice. Mrs. Weasley broke the ice by clapping her hands loudly. "Well then, aren't we getting late? Let us just get to the world Cup grounds first."

Without further delay, the entire party (with exception of Bill and Charlie) took the road uphill that led them to the dusty old boot (Wizards and their common sense, Hermione commented) and with the very-familiar tug-at-the-navel feeling, Harry felt himself get twisted and pulled away as the portkey activated.

* * *

Harry felt himself stop spinning and found himself getting close to ground. As gained by years of portkeying in and out, the dark lord Potter did not have any problem handling the aftermath. The same could not be said for the rest. Ron, Hermione and Ginny had thrown up, while Fred and George looked a bit dizzy. Molly and Arthur were quite okay, though Molly looked a bit shaken. The other members of the group- Cedric Diggory and his dad Amos looked surprisingly comfortable. Harry looked at Cedric and felt sympathy- after all; Cedric was the first of many that died when Voldemort returned. His father Amos had died of a stroke a year later, the death of his only son had hit him hard.

 _This time Cedric will live._

They had arrived on what appeared to be a deserted stretch of misty moor. In front of them was a pair of tired and grumpy-looking wizards, one of whom was holding a large gold watch, the other a thick roll of parchment and a quill. Both were dressed as muggles, though very inexpertly: The man with the watch wore a tweed suit with thigh-length galoshes; his colleague, a kilt and a poncho.

"Morning Mr. Basil. How far from here?" Mr. Weasley asked the man holding the watch.

"Hang on, let me check. Yes, a quarter mile from here, straight west." The man took the boot away and dropped it into a large box, which was already filled with other muggle wastes, portkeys Harry presumed. The other man made a note of the family name, number of members, time of arrival and all such technicalities.

They set off across the deserted moor, unable to make out much through the mist. After about twenty minutes, a small stone cottage next to a gate swam into view. Beyond it, Harry could just make out the ghostly shapes of hundreds and hundreds of tents, rising up the gentle slope of a large field toward a dark wood on the horizon.

It was odd how he felt different emotions on seeing the same thing for the second time. His first time round, he was surprised and amazed at nearly almost anything. Now though, it was normal for him, having lived for decades in the magical world. They trudged up the misty field between long rows of tents. Most looked almost ordinary; their owners had clearly tried to make them as Muggle-like as possible, but had slipped up by adding chimneys, or bell pulls, or weather vanes. Halfway up the field stood an extravagant confection of striped silk like a miniature palace, with several live peacocks tethered at the entrance. A little farther on they passed a tent that had three floors and several turrets; and a short way beyond that was a tent that had a front garden attached, complete with birdbath, sundial, and fountain.

"That one is the Malfoy tent." Mr. Weasley pointed subtly, at the one with the peacocks. Harry sniggered. The irony of Draco stalking across the Hogwarts halls dressed as a peacock came to his mind. "The other one must be the Scamanders. They care more about the birds and beasts, than about their own." He pointed at the one with the birdbath. They had reached the very edge of the wood at the top of the field, and here was an empty space, with a small sign hammered into the ground that read **WEEZLY.**

 _I wonder where Fleur is. Perhaps a look around is in order._

"Mr. Weasley?"

"Yes, Harry?"

Adorning his best innocent expression, he posed, "I was wondering if I could go on for a walk. Feeling a bit... uncomfortable." Mr. Weasley scrunched his face for a moment and then softened. "Sure Harry, but don't make it too long. The match will begin in a few hours."

"Of course."

* * *

 _It is all the same once again. Everything is back to the beginning. All my enemies are back and despite everything, I still have not even met her. Fleur! What am I going to do without you? A part of me wants to apparate to your home and kiss you to oblivion, while the other..._

Harry became oblivious to where he was walking as his thoughts muddled his mind. Thoughts that featured one single girl... her golden curls... her full pink lips... her melodious laughter... her...

STOMP!

"Oww!"

"Oooof!"

"Can't you see where you are walking, you-" the melodious voice stopped midway as she got up to face the green eyed individual before her, who was apparently locked in some kind of day dream. Fleur's face almost shifted into a scowl as she interpreted the young man's glassy look to the usual 'drooling' look she got from everyone. She was almost about to say something sarcastic when-

"I am sorry. I did not watch where I was going." Harry replied, breaking out of the trance he was in, on seeing his beloved after such a long time. Fleur looked at him with suspicion, her eyes narrowed at his _different_ reply.

 _Okay, that was different._ She thought.

"Fleur Delacour!" She answered, her hands still stiff on her sides as she observed the young man in front of her who was... apparently not susceptible to her allure. "And you are..."

"Harry. Harry Potter."

 _Way too different._

"Nice to meet you Harry Harry Potter." She replied with a smirk. Harry grinned back, "It is an old habit."

"The boy-who-lived, walking alone here in the empty field?" She urged, fascinated by the apparently-one-person-on-earth-beside-her-dad-that-could-resist-her-allure. "Running away from fans?" she suggested.

Harry grinned.

"Hmmm..." Fleur mused. "Well the tournament is about to begin. I should be there with my Papa." She nodded once and strode forward, only to stop midway and turn back, "You coming?"

Harry could only nod. "Of course."

* * *

Never in his life had he thought he would be bored of his mind while watching a Quidditch match. Sure, the fight between the two teams was quite exhilarating to watch, but decades into the future, the better series of the Firebolt- the Thunderbolt and the Fireblaze, two amazing new models released by the Firebolt company some two years after Voldemort's death. Those brooms were better than the Firebolt on a significant margin. The dark lord Potter employed many broom-flyers to attack enemy camps. It was the first time someone had tried aerial attacks on an army and the other army were at a loss. That was how the dark lord Potter had conquered the fight against the ICW.

Years of playing seeker and then training other broom flyers for his raids had given him an extremely sharp eye for spotting the snitch. Especially since his eyesight was corrected after, he had become free of the horcrux. The animagus form of a golden eagle had only bettered his already better eyesight. However now was not the time for nostalgia and Krum was diving down to catch the snitch, with Lynch hot on his trail.

Everyone was yelling and cheering Krum (and Lynch of course) and bets were being placed on how Krum was going to catch the snitch. Ron and the twins were yelling and cheering loudly when Harry uttered one single word, which made them look at him oddly.

"Feint."

Just as he described, Krum swerved his broom just an inch above the ground and pulled up. Lynch who was just behind him, failed to realize that he had been played and crashed into the ground. There was a collective groan from the sympathizers as they saw Lynch get crash into the dust. Harry's eyes however, were on only one place.

The box next to the Minister's box—the place were Sebastian Delacour and his family sat together. Another section of the mind was on the monitoring charm that he had placed on the disillusioned Barty Crouch Jr. who was hiding beneath the invisibility cloak in the box just below where he stood.

 _Can't let you go unmonitored, can I Crouch?_

* * *

Just as he expected, after the game was over, Crouch Jr. disappeared and Harry sensed him go towards the edge of the grounds towards the forests.

 _This is the moment he casts the dark mark!_

Careful that nobody saw him, Harry put on a notice-me-not charm over himself. It was ridiculously easy since it was too crowded with throngs of people scurrying out towards the tents. Sliding away from the Weasleys, he found himself a secluded area and put on his gray hooded robe. His wand still up in his holster; and disillusioned himself. Ever since the Hallows had merged with him, his body had changed drastically. He could now make himself invisible with nary but a thought. The invisibility properties of the cloak, he had guessed. He had worked behind creating a runic array that could work as a permanent silencing charm, and applied it to his dragon-hide boots. The process had required a great deal of magical influx since dragon-hide was magic-resistant.

He sped quickly towards Crouch Jr., the silencing charm working perfectly. It was one of the tricks of the trade, which allowed the mercenaries of the dark lord Potter's forces to outwit enemy troops. Now once again, he was beginning from scratch and part of him could not help but be exhilarated by it.

Barty Crouch Jr. loitered slowly, his mind half-conscious and half-infuriated, a wand in his hand as he slowly walked towards the edge of the grounds that led to the forest. A feeling of exhilaration passed through him as he raised his wand and waved it, hurling flames into the forest. Almost half a mile away, another bunch of people had shot out fire and was causing mayhem. The burning flames made him remember his glory days as he laughed out madly, yelling out into the air.

"MORSMORDRE!"

A black spell shot out of his wand and rose up towards the sky, casting the dark mark into the heavens. The greenish skull with the snake coming out of his mouth looked as eerie as the first time Harry had seen it.

 _Time for some fun._

"Hey Junior! Look here!"

Junior darted back in shock and turned towards the hooded figure in front of him. "How do you know my name? Crucio!" The sick red spell shot out from his wand towards Harry who simply dodged the spell.

"My turn!" Harry hissed and waved his wand, transfiguring Junior's wand into an adder, which hissed angrily. Crouch let out a yell and threw away the snake, only to find it re-transfigure itself back into the wand. Snarling at his opponent, he jumped towards the fallen wand but Harry was ready. Another flick and the wand transfigured into oil, making Junior slip and fall on the ground, bruised all over.

"Who are you?"

"Your Doom." Harry whispered, his voice modulated by the effect of a runic array carved on the collars of his robe. His wand raised to Junior's eyes, as he cast his first curse.

" _Moitas Espadas!"_

A dozen swords manifested in front of his wand, and shot towards the fallen body of Junior, impaling him. Four of the swords impaled him from behind while the rest dug into his frontal abdomen. One single sword impaled on his temple. Crouch was dead. The blood from his wounds flowing out, coloring the soil around with a nasty red color.

 _The first of many._

Harry whipped his wand and the swords vanished, leaving the wounds open. The oil on the ground had not yet transfigured back into the wand.

 _Let the Aurors figure it out._

He stopped for a moment. Feeling the anti-Apparation and anti-portkey wards placed all around the grounds, Harry let out another run, disillusioning himself with a thought.

* * *

He had reached near the tents. The fires were burning, and several people in complete death-eater regalia were laughing, casting flame and explosion curses everywhere as the rest of the crowd were running frenzy. It was almost funny watching a dozen people making thousands of others run like scared sheep.

 _Sheep... that is exactly what they are..._

The death eaters were now distinctly visible. They were shouting and throwing out exploding curses now, and one of them let out a yell and cast a Cruciatus, causing a feminine shriek. A voice, which Harry would realize any moment, any day.

 _Fleur!_

Fury raged inside him; his magic poised like a cobra ready to strike. His wand whipped out in his hand as he roared, "AUCTA VI CLYPEUM!" The golden band of magical energy that exploded out of his wand, and threw the death-eaters off by several wards. Harry walked towards the fallen girl, his face still under the hood as he watched her try to get up, but fail dismally as she convulsed in pain.

"Please..." she begged, and it broke Harry's heart seeing her so vulnerable. "Don't worry Miss Delacour, I am here to help." The runic array modulated his voice to become a bit more gruff than normal. The girl looked at her savior in shock and simply bobbed her head slowly. Harry turned towards the fallen death eaters who were now rising up and were ready to strike their opponent.

"Who are you, stranger? How dare you strike us?" one of them hissed in fury. Harry remembered the voice. Avery Senior. Harry had killed him personally in his other life, strangling his head with an iron coil.

"Peverell." Harry hissed and whipped his wand in Fleur's direction, as a high-powered dome shield manifested around her. Fleur widened her eyes at the impressive display of magic, as well as the person who had cast such an advanced spell so nonchalantly.

Three of the death-eaters sent Cruciatus curses hurling towards him. He whipped his wand and materialized several granite slabs towards them. The curses hit the boulders, breaking them into several smaller pieces, which rained on the death eaters, making them hide for cover. Several shields sprang up, the smaller chips hitting them, causing a lot of noise. He took the opportunity and sent out another set of powerful exploding curses. The death eaters started to take a defensive stance. The predators had just become prey.

Harry smirked.

 _Time for the kill._

"You bastard!" several of them yelled and shot out dark curses towards him. He weaved through them and cast a metal blue shield in front of them, shielding him from the incoming barge of spells. "Your dark lord will miss you...," he hissed cruelly.

" _Sanguinis ad mortem!"_ he hissed.

A black light shone out of his wand shot out at the death eaters who were paralyzed at the unknown spell taking form. The black light formed an iron chain, which bound them together.

"Any final words, gentlemen?"

One of the death-eaters had used his portkey and vanished out, much to his consternation and the anguish of the others, who got themselves bound by the iron chain, which somehow stopped their portkeys from working. Harry turned towards Fleur who was still looking shocked at the turn of events.

"Miss Delacour, I will have to ask you to look away."

Fleur immediately complied and hid her eyes behind her hands.

Harry sneered, and hurled his wand forwards. The iron chain began erupting several iron spikes, crushing and impaling the bound death-eaters, killing them almost instantly. The iron spikes then vanished off, leaving the mutilated and wounded dead bodies, which fell unceremoniously on the ground. Fleur opened her eyes only to find the mutilated corpses of her attackers- their wounds open and the blood flowing out of them. The effects of the Cruciatus and the incident became too much for her, and she fell down unconscious.

Harry was about to try ennervate her when he heard sounds of the Aurors nearby. A voice chanting Fleur's name also became distinct.

 _Her father._

 _Time to vanish._

Turning himself invisible, he darted off towards the direction of the Weasley tent, and finding a secluded spot, he got off his hooded robe, placing them back into his pouch, and holding the small golden locket hanging in his neck.

 _One turn should do it._

The magic took effect as time rewound back. Harry could feel the time stream reflux and found himself back in time. One hour back in time.

 _Time for my alibi._

* * *

 **One hour back in Time...**

"Everyone, gather in front of the tent!" Mr. Weasley bawled in desperation, "We need to apparate back home. Everyone gather here!"

"Harry? Where's Harry?" Hermione yelled out, "Harry's not here!"

"I'm here." She looked back to find her friend behind her, running towards her. "Sorry got swayed off by the crowd." He cast a confused look towards Mr. Weasley, "what's happening?"

"Someone attacked the grounds. Death eaters, I presume."

"Death eaters?" Harry asked with a tone of inquisitiveness predominant in his voice.

"You-know-who's minions!" Mr. Weasley stated and he nodded, discontinuing the conversation. Turing around, "How are we going to go back?"

"We will apparate!" Mr. Weasley explained with urgency. "Now everyone here? Right Bill and Charlie, take Ginny and your mum back. I will wait until you return."

"Dobby!" Harry intoned, and with a pop, the excited elf appeared amidst everyone. "Dobby can you take us all to the burrow?"

"Dobby can! Master Potter!"

"Good Dobby! Do it," Harry ordered, ignoring the indignant look on Hermione's face. Everyone held everyone else's hands, and Harry held Dobby's frail-looking hand while Arthur held another. With a rather audible pop, the entire party disappeared from the field.

* * *

 **Meanwhile...**

Ronald Weasley cast some high-powered privacy wards around himself as he walked into the burning forest. The Death-eater party had really done a mess of things. The previous time he had been caught too unaware in the situation, what with him being an ignorant fourteen-year-old Gryffindor. Sometimes it even amazed him how far he had come in life. At one time, he was almost a nobody- a silly redhead whose only achievement was that he was best friends with Harry fucking Potter. Now though... He had seen the true reality. He had emerged out of the shell, and soon his plan would come to completion.

 _I was always the best of the seven._

The burning forest, the shouts, the running sheep deserting the grounds... everything was the same as previously happened. However, something was different. He had traversed almost the entire ground and had yet to find a single death eater firing curses all around.

 _Perhaps they left._

Lost in his thoughts, he reached almost the edge of the forest, musing about the potential changing of events due to his intervention, when something he felt something thin and cylindrical under his boots. Stepping back, he knelt down and cast a Lumos using the holly wand.

 _A wand?_

He picked it up, and instantly, felt a long-lost connection.

 _My first wand, but how..._

Then he noticed the red coloration of the ground before him. He touched the wet soil with his finger.

Blood.

 _Something has happened. Someone bled to death. Right here, on the spot, but who?_

Whipping his wand in a semi-circular arc, he whispered. "Ostende hominem!" It was a forensic diagnostic charm, invented in the future which enabled the investigator to reveal a person's identity. A standard test for polyjuice during trials. A grayish mist manifested, which formed the words.

Bartemius Crouch Junior.

 _Fuck!_

This was not supposed to happen. Barty Crouch Jr. was supposed to go as Moody's imposter for one complete year and then make arrangements for Harry Potter to be portkeyed for the Dark lord' resurrection. Now? Someone had killed Barty Junior. Ruthlessly.

 _It cannot be a death eater. It cannot be an Auror. It cannot be someone from the Light side. It cannot be Harry Potter- he is just fourteen now._

 _Who killed him?_

"ARGHHH!" Ronald yelled in frustration. It seemed that returning in time had caused some unexpected effects; ones which he had not anticipated. That was it.

Or else.

Something else might have happened. The way of killing, it was just like one of those...

Ronald Weasley shuddered at the thought.

 _Could it be possible that... No, that could not have happened. Something else. Some other rational explanation must be there._

 _I will win. I will win. I will win. I will-_

Ron pocketed his old wand inside his robe. A secondary wand if nothing else, he mused before apparating away.

* * *

 **### Okay that was it for the chapter. Hopefully the story has fleshed out a bit for my readers. Read and of course, review please.**


	8. Chapter 8 : Unspeakables

**DMLE, Ministry of Magic.**

"Do you mean to tell me that someone just _appeared_ out of nowhere inside an anti-Apparation anti-portkey zone and killed ten of them?" The Aurors looked down, intimidated by the stern voice of their Head—Amelia Bones or the Iron Lady as she was notoriously named. The square jaw and monocle, coupled with the narrowed hawk-like eyes were more than enough for intimidation purposes.

"Yes, Boss." Dawlish muttered, hoping against hope that it would be an adequate answer. Amelia looked sharply at him and narrowed her eyes further into slits, and urged. "Is it Dawlish? Someone apparated _inside_ an anti-Apparation zone? Someone assassinated ten purebloods who were in full eater regalia and escaped un- noticed. Is that what you are intending to say?"

"Yes, ma'am, that is _exactly_ what I am intending to say; though I am not sure about the apparating part." A deep hollow voice resonated from behind as Amelia arched her head sideways to see the new incomer. Kingsley Shacklebolt, the tall bald dark-skinned Auror entered the discussion room along with a couple of other Aurors. He strode forward and nodded in front of his boss.

"You wish to add anything Kingsley?" Amelia urged. Kinglsey was one of the very few Aurors who showed real talent and a good head between his shoulders. He was of old school, just like Mad-eye-Moody and had a lot of expertise under his belt. Unlike the other arrogant newbies like Dawlish and Proudfoot, Kinglsey actually weighed his words before he spoke them out.

The tall dark-skinner Auror shook his head sideward and then summoned a couple of files into the room. On Amelia's head nod, he explained. "Forensics report, ma'am. I collected as much data as could be collected from the site. The first one," he pointed to the single corpse, separated from the rest, "—is Barty Crouch Junior. Though that does not explain why a dead man rose back to life suddenly only to turn back into another mutilated dead body."

Amelia winced. Kingsley's blunt sarcasm was often quite pointy and hit the right buttons. The Auror continued, "Official records state that the man is supposed to be dead. Why in fact, Junior here has a grave to his name in the backland of Crouch mansion. Barty Crouch Senior did make a big deal of burying his dead death-eater son, though I am not sure how a dead man turned alive all of a sudden."

Amelia did not need any further convincing. Turning to Dawlish, Proudfoot and Barnes, she ordered. "Arrest Crouch Sr. and place him in a DMLE cell. I will continue the interrogation myself. Dismissed." The three Aurors nodded and left the room. Turning to Kinglsey, "I hope you have some more information with you. Regarding the corpses and the killer?"

Kingsley nodded. Shifting the first two files off, he took the third file and handed it to Amelia, who opened it and sighed.

"Avery Senior, Derrick Greengrass, Benjamin Mulciber, Thorfin Rowle, Crabbe Senior, Charles Wilkins, Timothy Yaxley, Wilfred Yaxley, Dennis Travers and Arnold Jugson. All of them accused of being Death-eaters but got off due to either lack of evidence or the Imperius defense. It is ironic that they should be found dead wearing death eater regalia."

Amelia almost smirked in thought. "How were they..." she thought that _butchered_ might be the correct description but withheld her choice of words.

"Impaled by metallic spikes. Iron by what the forensics believe. The way there bodies are mutilated reminds me of that muggle movie thing that I once saw- getting sandwiched between two walls layered with iron spikes." Amelia winced at the description Kinglsey gave, and shuddered. "The way of killing, it is something unknown to our case files. Even death eaters did not kill so _brutally_."

"So we have a killer on loose who has a vexation with death eaters." Amelia surmised.

"And it is not from some light sided family." Kinglsey added. Amelia turned to him to continue. "The methods of killing- Light families would never do it. In fact, even neutrals and dark families would rather use something more _natural_ like the killing curse or some severing curse."

"So our killer has a vendetta against death eaters and clearly uses unconventional means of killing off his victims. I assume the iron spikes were transfigured and vanished later?"

"I might have something to add to your investigation, Madam Bones!" a rich, deep voice resounded from the doorway. Amelia whirled around, realizing the familiar voice. "Sebastian, it's a surprise to see you."

Sebastian Delacour walked forward and nodded at the rest of the group. "I have some... evidence that might point things in a different light." Amelia raised an eyebrow. Kinglsey commented from beside her, "Our Aurors found Miss Delacour on the site where the killings were done. Mr. Delacour took in charge of her, and hence we have been unable to get any statements from her yet." He continued coldly.

"You might be interested to know that being the Head of the French DMLE, I enjoy diplomatic immunity in magical Britain, something that extends to my immediate family as well, Auror-?"

"Shacklebolt."

Sebastian nodded. Kingsley stayed blank.

"Let's move on to your evidence." Amelia urged, dismissing the sudden silence. "I assume it is some statement from your daughter."

"Better yet, a pensieve memory of the incident; on condition that the memory will be not be used for official purposes."

"It is almost as if you are _trying_ to help the killer, Mr. Delacour. First you interrupt a formal investigation, and now you are not sharing circumstantial evidence." Kinglsey mocked coldly.

"I assure you, Auror Shacklebolt, the only reason I am even deigning to share the memory is because of the _butchering_ that happened. If not for that, I would not even _think_ of contributing anything that might cost my girl's savior." Sebastian answered coldly, "—particularly in a location where the _esteemed_ British Ministry proclaimed that it had taken _appropriate_ security measures."

Amelia winced at the harsh remark about the failure of her department. It was not entirely her own fault though, since Cornelius had for some strange reason, insisted on putting a large contingent of the Auror force for security in Diagon Alley. It wasn't hard for her to deduce that the suggestion had come from the whisperings that Lucius Malfoy muttered in his ear. For a moment, she felt a bit disappointed that Malfoy's mutilated body was not included in the group in front of her.

"I can assure you that your daughter's memory will only be viewed by me and Shacklebolt here, after which you can take the memory back with you." Sebastian nodded in acceptance, and removed a tiny vial from his robes. Amelia took it and commented. "Kingsley, come with me to my office. The rest of the discussion is disbanded." She addressed the remaining ones, who nodded and left.

* * *

Back into her office, Amelia summoned her own official pensieve, and looked up. "I assume you will enter with us." Sebastian nodded, and followed her and Kinglsey into the pensieve.

"Whoever this was, was really fast and packed a punch with his spells." Kingsley observed, "The first golden wave that he fired, assuming that it is a man,-" he paused, "I don't think I could even fire up such a widespread spell and blast so many people by such a radius. Two to three people is one thing, but ten?"

Amelia nodded, agreeing with his assessment. "It is a man," Sebastian interrupted, "you will see for yourself later." The three were viewing from Fleur's perspective and that being such, most of the time the unknown person was looking away from them. "His spells," Amelia suggested, "I have never seen such spells being used, especially the one he used in the end; the black one which formed the iron shackles around the death eaters."

"Neither have I," Sebastian confessed, "I even searched my family library for something similar, but found nothing. It is almost as if this person created the spell from scratch."

Amelia raised her eyebrows at the comment. It was quite well known but the Delacour family were a neutral family and had their roots in archaic magicks. If Sebastian had not found anything _remotely_ similar to the spell they witnessed, the case had just become much more complicated.

"Are you sure about that, Sebastian?"

Sebastian nodded. The memory continued. They saw the assailant wave his wand as iron spikes shot out of the shackles, impaling the bound prisoners, killing them immediately. They heard him say his name aloud.

Peverell.

An odd name. One that rose eyebrows. It reminded Amelia of the Ancient family of Peverell, who were renowned necromancers and were linked with the story of 'A tale of three brothers'. Her eyes darted to Sebastian and she knew that he was also thinking something similar.

"Do you think the name has any meaning in this case?" Kingsley asked.

"It does. The Peverells were one of the most notoriously dark families in Magical Europe. In fact, the fact that this man calls himself Peverell complicates the matter.

"If that spell could have been found anywhere, it would be in the Peverell grimoire." Sebastian commented. Amelia looked sharply at him. "The Peverell grimoire is one of the most sought after things in Magical Europe, but unfortunately no one ever has been able to circumvent the blood magic protections that protect the Peverell vault in Gringotts." As was Gringotts' policy, only someone of the Peverell blood could claim the vault. Even today, the old families tried to claim the Vault, but without success. Amelia wondered if the goblins could tell her anything regarding the situation.

"If the assailant calls himself Peverell, there may be something worth an interrogation at Gringotts." Kingsley commented. "If there is nothing else..."

Amelia nodded and the Auror left. Sebastian suddenly spoke. "There is one more thing. My daughter described his magic as _overwhelming_. My daughter, as you well know, is a Veela and Veela are natural at sensing magical auras. His accent was British, but I do not know anyone of British accent having such prodigal powers. I even discretely made inquiries with the ICW and Mage Association, and no one told me anything. It is as if, this guy appeared out of nowhere."

"People do not pop out of nowhere just like that Sebastian. Especially someone like that. My gut says that this is only the beginning."

"I hope you will not bring myself or my daughter into this mess. I have more than enough on my plate as it is."

"Of course not, Sebastian. Thank you for your help." The French DMLE Head bowed and left, leaving Amelia to ponder in silence.

"Who are you... _Peverell?_ "

* * *

Harry woke up the next morning, and found himself in Ron's room. It was exactly as he remembered in his memories. Chuddley-Cannons posters everywhere, splashes of red and gold with the occasional graying in the walls here and there- just as he remembered. Ron had already woken up and had gone downstairs. Getting up, he hurried to the bathroom and soon enough, he was ready to go downstairs for his breakfast.

"Ah, Harry! Thought I would meet you over here!"

Harry rolled his eyes. Albus Dumbledore was sitting on a transfigured plush chair in the Weasley drawing room, sipping a cup of coffee with the rest of the Weasley household. It was obvious that Dumbledore would rush to meet him as soon as the news reached him.

 **FLASHBACK**

It had only been two days since Sirius had left when suddenly, there was a flash of fire and Dumbledore's pet phoenix Fawkes had appeared out of nowhere, perching on Harry's shoulder while he lounged in the balcony. The phoenix trilled and extended his limb, showing the piece of parchment tied to it.

"Ah! The Headmaster sent you to find me, is it?"

Fawkes trilled again happily.

"I will take that as a Yes." Harry waved his hand to check for portkeys or other spells, but finding none, he opened the letter and read it.

It was from Dumbledore, and he was quite irritated. Turning to Fawkes, Harry spoke out, "Your companion is quite messed up, Fawkes. I told him not to send me to the Dursleys, but he did not listen. Would you mind taking back a reply?"

Fawkes trilled in agreement.

"Fine then!" He conjured a piece of parchment and wrote down his reply.

 **I am staying at my Family Manor. Will see you next term. I am not really one to say 'I told you so' but...**

 **I told you so.**

 **-Harry Potter.**

 **END OF FLASHBACK**

Harry smirked as he climbed down the rickety old stairs, which creaked as he climbed down. "Good Morning to you too, Headmaster!" Ignoring other's surprised looks; he walked up and sat on a nearby chair that was still available.

"I believe you and I have some discussion to do, Harry. Perhaps we should take it up outside? I have often heard that the fresh morning air does well to our health." Dumbledore patronized. Harry rolled his eyes and followed him as he left the room, ignoring the stares that he was getting from the others.

Standing outside near the shed, Harry turned towards the old man. "I sent you my letter. That should explain everything." Dumbledore looked curiously at his student, who had shown him surprisingly coldness.

"I'm surprised at your animosity, Harry; when I vividly remember how soft-spoken you were even during our last meet." Harry raised his eyebrows, and answered. "Let's just say that the soft-spoken boy found out that some venerable old man has been keeping his heritage away from him. Not only that, he also found out that the same old man was responsible for binding his magical core when he was a child, hindering his ability to perform magic. Considering how my life has been in danger consecutively in the last three years, I am sure you will understand if I am not very interested or well-spoken at the moment."

Dumbledore winced. Since the first year, he had had this issue troubling him, and now it had risen to the surface in a very ugly manner. "I am sorry my boy. When you resurfaced back to the wizarding world, you were able to cast magic quite easily. I simply assumed that the magical binds had ripped off with time. Though now that I know that it didn't, I am unable to understand how you were able to perform the acts of magic that you have performed all these years, especially the Patronus of all things."

Harry simply looked away and did not reply.

"Be as that may, I insist that you return to the Dursleys immediately. You will be safe there, and I am sure your family must be concerned about you." Harry began laughing at the last sentence, much to Dumbledore's amazement.

"Concerned, Headmaster? They are happy by all chances; happy that they do not need to harbor the freak for one more summer." He sneered, much to the Headmaster's chagrin.

"I am sure it is not as bad as-" Dumbledore began but Harry bet him to it. "You can be as surer as you want, Headmaster but I'm not going back there. I am happy living at Potter Manor, and I am pretty sure that the wards do a decent job of keeping me safe."

"Harry, the wards also keep your family safe. Do you want harm to befall them?"

"Yes."

Dumbledore stared at him, stumped at his answer. "You would let them be harmed?"

"If you are so concerned about their safety, you are free to put protections over the house. I am not going to suffer just because those filthy muggles can live and make my life hell."

"Harry, it is for your-"

"Meddle your next words very carefully, Headmaster." Harry countered coldly, much to the other man's shock. "I am done with your manipulation and I am finally learning what it means to be a Potter. I took the Headship of Potter and that ends your power of being my magical guardian; fat job you did guarding me. I will see you at Hogwarts, Headmaster." His last words almost a whisper, Harry mentally called for Dobby who popped in, only to bow at him and pop him away.

* * *

Albus Dumbledore stood alone in the Weasley yard, trying to understand the changes that had occurred in Harry Potter, and how it was possible to have failed him. After a moment, he let out a sigh and walked back in.

"Where is Harry, professor Dumbledore?" Bill asked, concerned.

"Young Harry just called for his elf and popped away." Dumbledore replied, his white moustache quivering as he tried to figure out what else had changed. "Miss Granger, Mr. Weasley—Ron, has there been any noticeable change in Harry?"

Hermione widened her eyes, understanding what the Headmaster was asking. "Harry is changed, professor. He has become so... different."

Dumbledore turned towards her and urged her to continue. "After the school terms were over, we saw Harry at the Hogsmeade station but after we all boarded the train, Harry just... Vanished."

"We never saw him boarding the train, Hermione!" Ron pointed out.

"Indeed!" Dumbledore intervened, "please continue."

Hermione looked at the others for confirmation and continued, "We didn't see him at all in the train, and we saw him first thing yesterday before we left for the world Cup. He had popped in with his elf."

"Dobby!" Ron added. "Yes that," Hermione added, a small frown on her face at the sudden interruption, "ever since he had returned, he was kind of... different I guess. He was keeping secrets and he avoided answering questions."

"What happened after the match?" Dumbledore asked. "During the attacks I mean." He clarified.

"He was here with us, professor." Ron answered, and the twins too nodded.

"The whole time?"

Hermione thought for a moment. "Yes, professor. The whole time. I mean, he was away for a couple of minutes but he said that was because the running crowd swayed him. After that, he was there with us till the end." Dumbledore thought something, and then nodded. "Thank you everyone, Miss Granger, Mr. Weasley, have a good day." Saying so, the Headmaster of Hogwarts apparated away.

* * *

 **Department of Mysteries.**

"What do you mean that another chronomantic event took place during the Quidditch world Cup?"

"Precisely that, Director. A small event, we think around one hour duration as suggested by our observations." Unspeakable Dominique answered briskly.

"One hour back in time. Was Harry Potter there?"

"Yes, sir. We believe he was there, but he was with the Weasleys as per as our reports."

 _This has gone way beyond what is acceptable. Something odd is happening and it is centered on Harry Potter._

"Tell me his residence." Croaker ordered.

"His official residence is at Number 4, Privet Drive, Little Winging, in Surrey."

That was enough her him apparently, for with a near silent pop, Croaker disapparated.

* * *

Apparating in front of the Dursley residence, Croaker observed the surroundings. Waving his wand in complicated patterns, he whispered something obscure. A flash of blue shot out like a wave out of his wand towards the Dursley residence and a crimson blur manifested in the shape of a huge dome, encompassing the Dursley residence entirely, ending only a few feet in front of him.

"Blood wards. That's... _interesting_."

He waved his wand again and whispered something, and the dome glowed with a silvery sheen for a moment. "Intent-based. Who built these?"

Only one name rose in his mind. Albus Dumbledore.

"The esteemed Leader of the light, engaging in Blood magic... Now wouldn't that be a surprise!" Croaker grinned. "Let's test them, shall we?"

He strode forward, emptying his mind and focusing on just one thought.

 _I need to meet Harry Potter for his own safety._

 _I need to meet Harry Potter for his own safety._

 _I need to meet Harry Potter for his own safety._

He entered one foot into the barrier. Nothing happened. The next. Still nothing happened. Croaker smirked. Intent-based wards they might be, but they lack power. Any fifth-level Occlumens could figure his way around them, and Croaker himself was a seventh level adept. The wards were cast either imperfectly, or...

The emotion that fuels them is missing.

He strode forward, and knocked on the door. After ten seconds, a horse-faced woman opened the door. "Yes?"

Croaker smirked inwardly. "I am from the Wizarding Ministry, and I need to talk to Harry Potter."

The woman's entire demeanor changed. "You are one of those freaks?" Croaker's smirk vanished instantly. What kind of people were they? For a moment, he wondered if Harry Potter had been mistreated all his life. He focused his Legilimency on the woman and watched in shock as his suspicions came true. Harry Potter, the Boy-who-lived, was tortured and treated like a slave by these despicable muggles.

"Where is Harry Potter?" He asked sternly.

"He did not return this year. Why, is he in some mess? That freak is nothing but trouble." She put in condescendingly. Croaker felt his magic tingle, his fingers itching to show this despicable muggle her true place.

"No, he is not. Thank you very much." He turned back, only to stop and turn around again.

"Mrs. Dursley?"

The woman stopped, and turned around to face the sharp end of the stick... the wand in the stranger's hand.

" _Praedae fortuna! Obliviate!"_

With a devilish smirk, he turned back and crossed the ward-line. Satisfied that he was out of the ward-line, he apparated away.

* * *

Harry finished carving runes on the slab in front of him. It was a hobby he had developed in his later years as a dark lord- creating runic combinations for day-to-day use. What he was presently working on a shield charm, or rather what he liked to call - a heavy-duty shield bunker; deadly useful against explosions. He was presently working on a runic matrix that would serve as a shield for Fleur and himself. During his later life, Harry had given up casting shield spells and instead begun to rely on runic combinations to do the job. They were time-consuming, but once ready; they were quite an advantage on the battlefield. Nothing more frightening than a powerful enemy that does not need to shield himself from the incoming barrage.

 _I need to find a way to access the Cup—without the added baggage of goblins, dragons and betrayers. Perhaps this dagger-_

He held the dagger in his hands. Crafted and forged by goblins, the dagger bore the insignia of House Slytherin. He did not have access to the sword this time, and wondered if he could arrange some kind of barter with the goblins someway.

 _No, that would be too... Hufflepuff of me. I need to get the Cup without handing over anything else. Perhaps..._

A daring idea rose in his mind. An idea, which any other sane person would have completely discarded. However, the dark lord Harry Potter wasn't really the textbook definition of being sane anyway.

 _I need to finish this project as soon as possible._

* * *

 **September 1, 1994.**

Harry strode up to the Platform 9 and three quarters, and passed nonchalantly through the barrier, entering into the wizardspace inside it. The blatant display of illusion magic at the gateway still amazed him. What was more amazing was the highly efficient way in which the entire wizardspace was confined inside one single pillar. A masterful demonstration of ancient magick in front of every budding witch and wizard, and yet all they developed into were simple wand weavers who knew nothing of ancient magicks. In his previous life, Harry had spent years researching on ancient magick- raiding old family libraries, studying and researching from ancient tomes to understand the utter versatility of magick. Despite all that, he still felt that he was still having some water in a small bucket while the great sea of magic lay undiscovered and unclaimed before him.

Finding himself a solitary compartment, he took it for himself. His trunk already miniaturized to the size of a matchbox, he put it inside the moleskin pouch he wore around his neck. Handy thing... magic. There was no point putting the trunk up on the racks, only to take it off and then carry it to the carriages. This was much better. Lounging on the rather plush seat, magically extended and transfigured, he opened a book on obscure wards and began to read.

Exactly fifteen minutes and forty-seven seconds later, the door opened with a small creaking sound, and Ron Weasley barged in. Shifting the book to his chest, Harry looked amusedly at the way Weasley acted. It was just like Ron to completely ignore any kind of social niceties and be as blunt as could be _wizardly_ possible. He idly wondered what Weasley would think if he would tell him, what he intended to do this year.

"Harry, mate! Found you at last. Where were you?"

Hermione palmed her face with irritation at Ron's tried and tested way of putting his foot in his mouth. "He was already here inside the compartment, Ron."

"Oh yeah, but I dint know that, did I?"

Harry smirked, but did not reply. Hermione's glance shifted from Ron to Harry to the book in his hand. "What are you reading?" She walked over and snatched it from his hand, ignoring the scowl that flitted through his face. She opened the book, only to find it written in some obscure scribbles. "What is this language? I can't understand it."

"Obviously." Harry almost drawled. "That book is part of my family legacy. It contains magic that is solely and completely the property of the Potter family. It is obvious that since you are not a Potter by blood, you cannot comprehend the language."

It was not true. In reality, he was reading a book taken from the Chamber and coded in Parseltongue. Only a speaker could read and comprehend it. An obvious deception but Hermione didn't need to know it.

"But that's unfair. Everyone should be allowed to learn everything. Pureblood families should not be allowed to horde magical spells away. It's barbaric."

 _Of course, and then let them take the wizarding world to hell._

"The old families' horde magic for a reason, Hermione." Harry ignored the look of envy and fury that flitted across Ron's face for a moment and continued, "Being an old family doesn't always mean money and wealth. There is a bigger _responsibility_ on our shoulders... Responsibilities, which _some_ , have chosen to forget."

"Oh darn it Harry, stop behaving like damned Malfoy, will you?" Ron almost snarled.

"Ronald Weasley, just because your family was stripped off from its wealth and stature doesn't make the entire family magic framework wrong."

"Stop it Harry, you are just behaving like Malfoy now."

"Am I? Tell me Ron. Do you actually _know_ how your family was reduced to where it is now? Do you actually know and _comprehend_ your own roots? I would suggest you actually do that, before you go ahead, making claims about me behaving like that Fe... Malfoy."

Ron's cheeks reddened with anger and embarrassment, before he stood up and banged the door open. "I am done with this. Hermione, are you coming?"

Hermione looked conflicted. On one hand, she was quite shocked at Harry's disposition and words. On the other hand, her thirst for knowledge wanted her to stay and ask her friend for the information. Finally, her Gryffindor nature won over her Ravenclaw side, and she stood up. "I am not sure what you mean by it Harry, but I ... I think something is very wrong with you." She turned back, and walked off to find Ron.

"Suit yourself!" he muttered, knowing Hermione would be able to listen to his parting words.

* * *

He had just got back to reading where he had left off, when- "You know, you are quite different than what I expected!" Almost instantly, his wand shot out in his palm and he focused it straight on the now-reappearing figure sitting inside his very compartment. It was a man, one wearing hooded gray robes, covered with ash hood. He could not see the face of the man but understood who or what exactly he was dealing with now.

An Unspeakable from the Department of Mysteries.

Weighing his chances and comprehending the situation, Harry asked. "Who are you?"

"It is not important." The man spoke in a rather gravelly voice.

"It is not important to you." Harry shot back.

The unspeakable sighed. "I am from the Department of Mysteries, Mr. Potter, and I wish to ask you about the recent happenings."

"What recent happenings?"

"Oh I was going to explain that. You see I was talking about the chronomantic-" Just as the last word escaped out of the Unspeakable's mouth, Harry's seat glowed blue for a second and he felt the magic twist. In a flash, the threads of magic shifted into something else and Harry disappeared; the last word in his mind as he disappeared being...

 _A portkey..._

* * *

 **### Well that was it for the new chapter. sorry for the delay. I was writing a new chapter for Wizarding chronicles and also was engaged in some work. Anyway, hope you like the chapter and of course, please follow, favorite and importantly, review...**


	9. Chapter 9 : Flight

He opened his eyes, but could find nothing but pitch-blackness. His whole body reeked of pain and tiredness. He tried moving his hands, but it seemed they were locked in some kind of bind. He felt some kind of bracelet on his hands. He tried to channel his magic through it, but his magic refused to work. It was then that the realization shot through him.

Magic-suppressing bracelets.

 _Damn! Why do I keep on finding myself in such situations?_

"We did not want you to be uncomfortable, but it was necessary, I am afraid."

Harry just gritted his teeth, concentrating on his magical senses. The bracelets would not allow him to cast any magic. Then again, this wasn't the first time the dark lord Potter had found himself in such circumstances. The magic suppression bracelets worked on one simple principle—they were a combination of a lock and a sink. The more a person tried to break through and use his magic, the more his magic would feed the sink. In turn, the sink would power the lock, making the lock more and more powerful, hindering the person from exercising his magic. Given enough time, it would turn the prisoner into a temporary squib. However, unlike other magical artifacts, they had a simple flaw.

They were not sentient by any means.

There was one simple way to get rid of them, but then something wild appeared in his mind.

 _Time to test the powers of the Hallows..._

* * *

"Why am I here?"

"You are here, because you have been interfering in the laws of time and continuity." A rough voice resounded from outside. He mused he was inside some kind of... black box, unable to see the outside.

 _Some kind of interrogation chamber I guess. I need more time..._

"What do you mean?"

"Surely you jest, Mr. Potter. You time-travel across space and time into our world from the future. You destroy the entire horde of Dementors stationed at Hogwarts. You kill of ten of the Pureblood elites of our world... And you say that you do not know what I mean?"

Harry paled. How in the world did they know it?

"As you can understand, Mr. Potter. We at the Department of Mysteries do not take very well with someone changing the time stream. And that brings us both here..." The pitch-blackness faded off as the dimly lit chamber came into view.

"Who are you, and what do you want, Mr. Potter?" The gray robed hooded figure asked him.

 _Just a few more minutes..._

"I am here... to prevent the destruction of our world at Voldemort's hands..."

"Voldemort is dead. His dead body was found at Godric's Hollow in 1981." That set harry off, who began to laugh.

"Why are you laughing?" Another hooded figure questioned him sternly.

Harry laughed. "You Unspeakables. You figure everything about me and yet, you don't know about Voldemort? Figures." He sneered.

"The _dark lord_ is just a wraith. One that will vanish with time." One of the Unspeakables spoke out in anger. Harry immediately looked up at the new person as realization stuck him. Fighting against Voldemort for all those years had given him some sharp skills, one of them being to notice wordings. Only one type of wizards who described Voldemort as the 'dark lord'. Death eaters. The only one to do so in the Department of Mysteries itself would be...

"Rookwood, is that you?" Harry's voice rang through the Chamber. "Augustus Rookwood, is it?"

The man stiffened for a moment, as realization stuck him; his wand held tightly in his palm. "How do you know my name?"

"Seriously?" harry taunted, while inwardly smirking at the way the situation had changed. "Augustus Rookwood, member of Voldemort's inner circle. Member of the Chronomantic Division of the Department of Mysteries. Responsible for the deaths of the McKinnon family in the first wizarding war, and the assassination of Rufus Scrimgeour and Augusta Longbottom in 1998. Not to mention the hundreds of Muggleborns he killed using Fiendfyre during the raids."

In an instant, a sickeningly purple spell shot out from Rookwood's wand towards Harry Potter. That very moment, several things changed.

Harry saw the spell racing towards him. The cruel strands of the magic that embodied the entrails-expelling curse raced towards him. He chanced a look at Rookwood and sensed a cruel smile beneath the hood.

Then, it happened. His body glowed with a gray tinge as his physical body suddenly turned ethereal, almost akin to a Patronus, only that the color was gray instead of dazzling silver. The spell flew through him, as if his body had turned to smoke. Just as the spell passed through successfully, he moved forwards, his ethereal body releasing itself out of the bindings, as it turned corporeal back again.

Ever since Harry had received the powers of the Hallows, he had researched them extensively, trying to discover the power of the three artifacts of Death. He had started with the cloak, since it was both a family heirloom as well as a Hallow. It was after searching through the one of the journals of one Lord Nathaniel Potter, that he had found something interesting.

 **The Potter Invisibility Cloak, perhaps the most prized of all Potter heirlooms was brought into the family when my grandfather Lord Edmund Potter married Edwina Peverell of the Ancient family of Peverell. Being the last of her family, and having no other surviving heirs, the Peverell treasury Vault fell to the Potters. The heirloom Vault though, one, which is supposed to contain the sought-after Peverell Grimoire, stands unclaimed so far. It has almost been a tradition for Pureblood men of age to come and try for the Peverell inheritance, and then go on to fail and convulse in pain. Hundreds of families have tried so far, but none successful yet. However, I digress.**

 **The three legendary Peverell brothers of old, Antioch, Cadmus and Ignotus- the three mages who are associated with the creation of the Hallows blessed by Death himself. It is believed that the invisibility cloak is none other than The Cloak himself.**

 **Speculated to provide impenetrable invisibility, the cloak has stayed in the family for three generations and it is still to show one single taint of age in it. The cloak is as silky and supple as it was from the moment I first laid my eyes on it, and I am a hundred and fifty seven as of now.**

 **Edwina Peverell's journal does describe the way the cloak is to be used, though a strange line is documented, something which I have not been able to decipher as of yet. Perhaps some one of my generation will be able to decipher its meaning, and I quote-**

' _ **No spell can touch the one who walks in both worlds.'**_

Harry had researched about that particular line. Death had told him that he would have to discover the power of the Hallows by himself and that had made him toil harder and harder, until one day, when he discovered it. When joined with the two other hallows, the cloak gave the wielder the power to enter in Death's own realm as well as the mortal realm. This power, it enabled him to completely ignore the limits of the mortal world and transcend into the higher realms—something which enabled him to break through things like wards very easily.

"What- what?" Rookwood could only stutter, before a crimson spell shot out of the other Unspeakables and shot him in the chest, rendering him unconscious. Harry smirked, his body turning smoky once again, popped away in a flash.

"What just happened?" asked one of the hooded figures in the room.

"I believe,-" Croaker answered, his hood still covering his face, "We just found ourselves in one complicated situation. However," he strode up, levitated the fallen body of Augustus Rookwood, and bound him, throwing him inside the interrogation chamber as the bindings activated once again. "—Harry Potter has indeed helped us in a very significant way. We had a death-eater amidst one of our own and we were ignorant of it. It is quite... Ominous."

Clemens spoke up. "What are we going to do about Harry Potter, Director?"

Croaker rubbed his forehead. "Harry Potter is a... peculiar case. While I would not allow anyone with future knowledge to stay here and try to deviate the timeline, Harry Potter is also a subject of a True Prophecy. Hindering him, might have unwanted results... Besides, he also helped us in... Improving our security, shall we say? I think I will let him have a freebie for the moment. If he does anything too drastic once again, we will capture him back."

"He could break out of our interrogation trap. I wonder how he did that smoke thing... Even our technologies don't have anything closely similar to that." Lawrence spoke up.

Croaker just nodded, his mind racing with thoughts centered on one single person who might prove very interesting in the near future.

Harry Potter.

* * *

A flash of gray light appeared out of nowhere near Hogsmeade station, and a tired Harry Potter stepped on the wet grassy soil. Travelling using the Hallows felt quite tiring, despite their obvious advantages. He would have to get familiar with the method quickly.

With a quick tempus, he checked the time.

 _35 minutes late. They must have had me unconscious for long._

He checked his robes. His trunk and moleskin pouch were still there. Waving his hand in a circular arc over his head, he checked himself for tracking spells.

 _None. They must have had great faith in their interrogation chamber. I need to watch my back, in case they attack me again._

He took out the time turner out of his pouch. A good thing he had put blood-based protections along with indestructibility runes carved over the pouch. Taking the gold chain out of it, he quickly wore it round his neck.

 _One turn should do it again._

* * *

 **Meanwhile on the train.**

Daphne Greengrass, fourth-year Slytherin— notoriously known as the Ice Queen of Slytherin because of her ice-cold expressionless demeanor coupled with her complete abstinence of male company as well as her wicked way with ice-based spells; was strolling through the corridor of the train back to her compartment. She had been to the restrooms and was returning to her usual compartment, where her friend Tracy Davis was waiting for her. The raven-haired blue-eyed girl was almost busy in her own thoughts, so busy that she almost missed the sounds of confrontations that radiated out of a specific compartment. She stood still and tried to understand what was being said, after all- information was power. Knowing who the inmates of the compartment were, it was more than reason enough for her to overhear it. Yes, overhear—not eavesdrop. After all, if the conversation was private, then they should have put on privacy wards for that.

A quick disillusionment and silencing charm later, she slowly edged towards the door of the compartment, enough to hear what was being said but hidden enough not to let the others know of her presence. Her hand went up to her left ear, and twisted the earring in an arc. It was an old family heirloom gifted to her on her previous birthday. Her father Jonathan Greengrass had presented it to her, knowing how talented she was when it came to gathering information. For someone who led the neutral faction of the Wizengamot, information was everything, and he had trained his eldest daughter perfectly to suit his aims. Daphne pressed her ear on the door, the artifact on her ear enabling her to listen quite vividly, whatever was being spoken inside the compartment.

"The old families' horde magic for a reason, Hermione. Being an old family doesn't always mean money and wealth. There is a bigger _responsibility_ on our shoulders... Responsibilities, which _some_ , have chosen to forget." Potter was saying.

"That is new. Potter taking the stance of the Purebloods. And I thought he was Dumbledore's golden boy." Daphne mused.

"Oh darn it Harry, stop behaving like damned Malfoy, will you?" Weasley snarled.

"Ronald Weasley, just because your family was stripped off from its wealth and stature doesn't make the entire old family framework wrong."

"Stop it Harry, you are just behaving like Malfoy now."

Daphne almost smirked. The history of the Weasleys was quite an open secret among the old families. It all started in 1734 when Atticus Wesley had openly betrayed the oaths of the Ancient families, and refused to act his stand. He had handed over the secret tomes of the Wizengamot to the King of Spain in return for lands and power. Before the ancient tomes could be delivered properly, Atticus was caught red-handed by Perseus Malfoy, who was the then Chief Warlock of Wizengamot. Atticus was tried before the Wizengamot, proved guilty and flung through the veil. The lands and vaults of the Ancient family of Weasley conscripted and retained by the Wizengamot, except the lone trust Vault of his son William Wesley. The name 'Wesley' had become synonymous to 'shame' and hence William decided to change it to 'Weasley', declaring war against House Malfoy. Since the newly formed 'Weasley' was a new House, it could not qualify for a _House War_ , so the oath shifted into a _House enmity_ , something that continued to this day. Was it any coincidence that Weasleys and Malfoys hated each other on principle?

Her thoughts shoved aside, she heard Weasley snarl in anger and bang the door hard. It was only her quick reflexes that saved her face from being hit by the door. Ready to leave, she was almost about to discard the disillusionment charm when she heard something... odd.

"You know, you are quite different than what I expected!"

 _A man's voice. Odd. Potter normally stayed with his two henchmen._

"Who are you?" Potter snarled, and Daphne suddenly turned curious, at what was going on. Someone unknown was inside; someone whom Potter sensed as dangerous.

"It is not important." The man spoke in a rather gravelly voice.

"It is not important to you." Potter shot back.

The unspeakable sighed. "I am from the Department of Mysteries, Mr. Potter, and I wish to ask you about the recent happenings."

 _Department of Mysteries? A bloody Unspeakable? What the hell was Potter dealing with?_

"What recent happenings?" Potter asked. Daphne could sense the wariness in his voice.

"Oh I was going to explain that. You see, I was talking about the chronomantic-" A pop occurred and everything was silent. Daphne waited for a few minutes, before deciding to open the door. Worst-case scenario, she would be caught, but then again, she did have a good alibi and excuse ready. She opened the door slowly. No sounds. With a snail's pace, she entered into the compartment.

It was empty.

"Homenum revelio."

Still nothing.

"Potter?" her voice resonated throughout the empty compartment.

* * *

The train was nearing Hogsmeade station as it gave out a whistle, its wheels slowing down, indicating that the destination was close. With a long-drawn-out whistle and steam puffed out extensively, the Hogwarts' express slowed down to a halt at Hogsmeade station. Daphne almost ran out of the train, keeping her mannerisms as intact as she could. Potter, she had to know what had happened to him. She had even used the 'Point-Me' spell, a fifth-year spell that was used to point out the location of something or someone within a given radius; said radius usually dependent upon the caster's power and skill. Daphne was by no means a mage, but she had enough power to cast it over a reasonable radius.

The inference had been crystal-clear. Harry Potter was not on the train.

Daphne stood outside, her senses on keen alert as everyone stepped down the train. Harry Potter was someone on whom she had her eyes on since first year. The Boy-who-lived, scion and heir to the Potter fortune, a seat in the Wizengamot and the only person to survive the killing curse. It was guaranteed that in the future, Potter was going to have a significant say in the affairs of the nation. She was excited about what Potter would be like. Instead, Potter was nothing like what she expected. He wore rags when not in classes; his hair scruffy and messy- his behavior nothing like the spoiled prince of Gryffindor she had expected, and yet there was something about him.

Potter became the youngest seeker in the century.

Potter defeater Professor Quirrel and saved the Philosopher's stone.

Potter supposedly discovered the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets, fought a big bad basilisk, and saved Ginny Weasley.

Potter supposedly fought against several Dementors.

Potter was an enigma. One whom Daphne was hell-bent on solving. Hence, a shocked Daphne Greengrass stood gaping when she saw Potter walk out of the train nonchalantly. His expression, it was different from what she had seen all these years. The adamant Gryffindor was gone, and in his stead, a different person walked in his stead. The way he moved... it was as if he was stalking, like a predator. Her instincts flared and she instinctively knew that something had changed.

She waved her wand and whispered. "Point me, Harry Potter," sure in her confidence that this was some imposter. It was to her utter incomprehension when the wand pointed straight towards Harry Potter, proving his identity.

 _Fuck!_

* * *

 **The Great Hall, Hogwarts.**

The Great Hall looked its usual splendid self, decorated for the start-of-term feast. Golden plates and goblets gleamed by the light of hundreds and hundreds of candles, floating over the tables in  
midair. The four long House tables were packed with chattering students; at the top of the Hall, the staff sat along one side of a fifth table, facing their pupils. It was much warmer in here. Harry walked past the Slytherins, the Ravenclaws, and the Hufflepuffs, and sat down with the rest of the Gryffindors at the far side of the Hall, next to Nearly Headless Nick, the Gryffindor ghost. Pearly white and semitransparent, Nick was dressed tonight in his usual doublet, but with a particularly large ruff, which served the dual purpose of looking extra-festive, and insuring that his head didn't wobble too much on his partially severed neck.

"Hiya, Harry!" A voice surprised him from the opposite end. It was Colin Creevey, a third year who regarded Harry as something of a Hero. The excitable boy had perished in the battle of Hogwarts in Harry's seventh year—a war which had taken nearly everything from Harry. After the war, only Harry and a couple of Order members had remained alive among those who were fighting. The rest had perished. The trouble was, Voldemort was still alive and kicking, and importantly, the entire thing had resulted to nothing. Voldemort was alive, the demons were still there and Harry had nearly lost everyone in his team. That was before he had stopped being defensive and declared an all-out offensive on the Death-eaters.

"Hi, Colin," said Harry warily.

"Harry, guess what? Guess what, Harry? My brother is starting! My brother Dennis!"

"Err — well," said Harry. He did not want to think of the corpse of the young Dennis Creevey even before the boy was sorted to Gryffindor.

 _This time it will be different._

* * *

Daphne observed with a sharp eye at the proceedings, and importantly one green-eyed Gryffindor wizard who had supposedly taken the mickey out of her. That, or else something way beyond normal was happening at Hogwarts, and no one knew it save her.

"What's so special about Potter Daph? You seem to be undressing him with your eyes!" Tracy commented saucily from beside her.

Daphne's face shifted into a scowl as she regarded her best friend. Beneath the casual happy-go-lucky attitude, she knew that a highly intelligent and cunning girl lurked deep inside Tracy Davis. The exterior was only a deception... a mask to prevent others from taking her seriously. Being a half blood, Tracy had to endure a lot many pains to stay in Slytherin House; something, which Daphne was not ignorant about. It was ironic how one of the most Slytherin girls was treated in Slytherin.

"Nothing like that. Just a hunch I am testing."

Uhuh, so you say. However, I wouldn't mind having him close inside a broom closet. Just look at-" Daphne tuned out Tracy's ministrations and refocused on Potter. Beside them, Malfoy was grieving to whoever would listen about how he couldn't find Potter on the train and antagonize him. She almost felt sorry for the pale blonde- the overgrown monkey behaved like a five-year old and pretended that he was some sort of 'Silver Prince of Slytherin'. Four years and she had yet to see Malfoy demonstrating even one of Slytherin values in his character, and couldn't help but wonder how in the world had the Hat decided that Malfoy was a Slytherin.

The sorting had just finished and Albus Dumbledore had risen from his chair and was apparently going to deliver a speech. It was the same as last year, about the forbidden forest and Argus Filch, and of course, the four hundred and thirty seven items on Filch's 'forbidden' list should anyone be interested to check it out.

"It is also my painful duty to inform you that the Inter-House Quidditch Cup will not take place this year."

Daphne's lips twisted. This was interesting. The rising amounts of groans and horrifying expressions across the four tables demonstrated a united front about how the students felt about Dumbledore's decision.

"This is due to an event that will be starting in October, and continuing throughout the school year, taking up much of the teachers' time and energy — but I am sure you will all enjoy it immensely. I have great pleasure in announcing that this year at Hogwarts-"

There was a rumbling sound of thunder as the doors of the Great Hall banged open.

Harry watched in shock as Mad-eye-Moody walked in through the door, just like in his previous lifetime. He knew very well that it could not be Barty Crouch Junior, since he had personally obliterated the man. Either Barty Crouch Junior must have been an exceptional actor or something else was at play. Moody walked slowly, his electric-blue eye scanning everyone and everything as he walked, until he reached the staff table, muttered a couple of words and then moved on Dumbledore's side to acquire his seat.

"May I introduce our new Defense against the Dark Arts teacher?" said Dumbledore brightly into the silence. "Professor Moody."

It was usual for new staff members to be greeted with applause, but none of the staff or students clapped except Dumbledore and Hagrid, who both put their hands together and applauded, but the sound echoed dismally into the silence, and they stopped quickly. Everyone else seemed too transfixed by Moody's bizarre appearance to do more than stare at him. Harry quickly took out the Marauder's map and checked it. To his great elation, it was indeed mad-eye Moody.

 _Funny are the ways of the Time line._

Dumbledore cleared his throat. "As I was saying," he said, smiling at the sea of students before him, all of whom were still gazing transfixed at Mad-Eye Moody, "we are to have the honor of hosting a very exciting event over the coming months, an event that has not been held for over a century. It is my very great pleasure to inform you that the Triwizard Tournament will be taking place at Hogwarts this year."

"You're JOKING!" said Fred Weasley loudly.

The tension that had filled the Hall ever since Moody's arrival suddenly broke. Nearly everyone laughed, and Dumbledore chuckled appreciatively. "I am not joking, Mr. Weasley," he said, "though now that you mention it, I did hear an excellent one over the summer about a troll, a hag, and a leprechaun who all go into a bar..."

Professor McGonagall cleared her throat loudly.

"Err — but maybe this is not the time... no...," said Dumbledore, "where was I? Ah yes, the Triwizard Tournament ... well, some of you will not know what this tournament involves, so I hope those who do know will forgive me for giving a short explanation, and allow their attention to wander freely. The Triwizard Tournament was first established some seven hundred years ago as a friendly competition between the three largest European schools of wizardry: Hogwarts, Beauxbatons, and  
Durmstrang. A champion was selected to represent each school, and the three champions competed in three magical tasks. The schools took it in turns to host the tournament once every five years, and it was generally agreed to be a most excellent way of establishing ties between young witches and wizards of different nationalities — until, that is, the death toll mounted so high that the tournament was discontinued."

"Death toll?" Hermione whispered, her hands turning white.

Harry rolled his eyes. At least, he would not be participating in the Tournament this year. He had much more important works to do, like fending against Unspeakables, hunting the remaining horcruxes, killing off Voldy and importantly, getting Fleur back. However, he mused, being the Hogwarts Champion would definitely bring him into Fleur's interest. But then again, she already knew him from the world cup anyway.

Dumbledore was continuing his speech. "The heads of Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will be arriving with their short-listed contenders in October, and the selection of the three champions will take place at Halloween. An impartial judge will decide which students are worthy to compete for the Triwizard Cup, the glory of their school, and a thousand Galleons personal prize money."

Harry closed his eyes, eager to ignore the voices of everyone around him boasting how they would be selected. Ron Weasley was yelling out to whoever would listen how he would be selected and would become the champion. Harry could not help but smirk at that.

It was then that Dumbledore announced the rule preventing students less than seventeen years of age from participating.

The furious yells from the male Weasleys to the annoyance of the Hufflepuffs, none whatsoever had any effect on the Headmaster, who simply looked amused and continued, "I will personally be ensuring that no underage student hoodwinks our impartial judge into making them Hogwarts champion." His light blue eyes twinkled as they flickered over Fred and George's mutinous faces. "I therefore beg you not to waste your time submitting yourself if you are under seventeen."

With the Weasley twins planning to develop an ageing potion to get through the selection process, Ron's mutterings about the unfairness of the situation and Hermione's chants about House elves and 'slave labor' (with the additional look of scorn at Harry whenever someone mentioned anything about elves), the Gryffindor House left for their dormitories.

* * *

On the way back, Harry was sudden caught in the middle by professor Mcgonagall who presented him a tiny piece of parchment, and informing him to visit the Headmaster's office as soon as possible, and was almost about to leave when Harry called her back from behind.

"Yes Potter?"

"I was wondering if I could change my electives. Divination is a waste of time, and personally, I am not that interested in Magical creatures anymore." Harry ignored the look of shock on Ron's face and the one of surprise on Hermione's.

"Where shall I put you then, Mr. Potter?" Mcgonagall asked in a no-nonsense tone.

"I was thinking Runes and Arithmancy. I fiddled a bit with those subjects in the summer and IO would like to try them."

Minerva Mcgonagall looked oddly at him. From the first year, Harry Potter had always appeared to be a happy-go-lucky child, one who never really tried his best at studies. Now that he was taking an interest...

"I will have to talk to Professor Vector and Babbling about putting you in the third-year classes then, Potter."

"But professor, can I just sit directly with the fourth-years? I assure you I studied the entire third-year subject matter during the summer."

Mcgonagall raised her eyebrows. "That is... new, Potter. I am not really sure if you can manage it."

"I am ready for a test, if you think that is necessary, professor."

Mcgonagall sighed. "Very well. I will do likewise. Good night, Potter."

"Good night Professor." Harry wished, as he saw the departing figure of Professor Mcgonagall move away towards her own office.

"I will see you guys later." A scowl forming on his face, he headed upstairs for the Headmaster's office, not at all eager for the confrontation that lay ahead.

* * *

 **In the Dungeons...**

"What's with you and Potter, Daph?"

Daphne turned towards her only friend and associate in school Tracy Davis with an annoyed look. "Don't tell me you did not see any difference in him."

"Of course I did!" Tracy began indignantly, her expression dead serious before she continued, "He is grown muscles. I bet he would be quite good in-"

"Damn it, Davis. I am being serious." Daphne yelled indignantly.

"Okay, Okay! Don't get your knickers in a twist Greengrass. Yes, I saw. Potter's attitude seems changed. Nevertheless, that is almost natural. Why are you so obsessed with him?"

Daphne weighed the situation. Telling Tracy would be beneficial, as she would get another eye to observe her new interest. But then again, if she let out the news, it would not spell well for her.

"Okay, but I need an oath of silence."

"Alright Greengrass." Tracy's demeanor changed almost instantly, "You got my attention."

* * *

 **### The second chapter for the day. I am not sure if I am going to update any more chapters today but I will try. nevertheless, hope this chapter answers some questions of the last chapter (and raises some more too :D ). Also, nearly 600 followers in just ten days? Definitely flattering. Anyways, reviews please.**


	10. Chapter 10 : Classes and Punishments

The door to the Headmaster's office knocked twice. A hard purposeful knock—not the one asking for permission, but one demanding attention. A loud and clear 'Come in, Harry' answered the knock as Harry felt the wards of the room granting him access.

 _Willy old man! Putting an intent-based ward in front of his office and knowing who is entering before they enter. A simple act asserting dominance over the entrant._

Opening the door, Harry walked in and stood in front of the Headmaster's table. "I received your note, Professor."

"Ah yes, I wanted to talk to you about some... issues, Harry."

Harry stayed expressionless.

If the headmaster was annoyed at the lack of response, he did not show it. Instead, he smiled and continued. "You might be interested to know that your aunt and uncle are not living at Privet Drive anymore."

Harry was ready to counteract any kind of arguments that Dumbledore might put forward about the need to return to Privet Drive, but this... this threw him off-guard.

"Excuse me?"

Dumbledore nodded offhandedly. "I admit even I was surprised by the sudden development. Your uncle and aunt have been facing a huge financial crisis. That and because of the complaints of the neighbors, they have been forced to relocate somewhere else and have sold the house off. I was wondering if you already knew about it. But your reaction shows you didn't expect this coming."

"I- I didn't know anything about this," Harry answered, hastily adding a 'Sir'.

Dumbledore nodded again, his moustache quivering. "Tell me Harry. Is there something, you wish to tell me? Anything at all?"

"No sir." Harry felt that the 'no' was much quicker than he would have liked. His eyes wandered towards the shelves, were Fawkes and the sorting Hat sat, with the crimson phoenix trilled sweetly.

"I thought about our... conversation at the Weasley home. As much as I would like that you should stay in a properly guarded property, I understand that Potter manor is guarded well enough for you to stay there. As such, I will allow you to exercise your discretion and stay there as you wanted."

Something shifted across Harry's face. Had Dumbledore noticed it, he would have deciphered that emotion as cold fury. "Headmaster, I am confused."

"I am sorry?"

"You should be, but that's not the point." Harry shot back. "Need I inform you that I am emancipated and the Head of my family already? Why exactly do you think that you hold any kind of...control over me?"

"Harry, all I am trying to do is for your own good." Dumbledore tried in a defeated voice.

"My own good?" Harry enunciated slowly; raising his palms in front of the old man in front of him, and began stating points one by one, crossing off fingers as he finished one point. "You dropped me at the Dursley residence where I was tortured and enslaved for ten years. The filthy muggles hated me for what I was. For six years, I knew that my name is Freak, until Petunia informed me that my name is Harry Potter. I was belittled, I was manhandled, and I was made to slave from dawn to dusk. I was told that my father was a drunkard and my mother a whore; that they got themselves killed in a freaking car accident. They mocked me every single moment they could, kept me unfed for days at times, and all of that for ten damned years."

Dumbledore sat aghast at the description he was getting from the boy. While he knew that the muggles were not kind to the boy, but never had he anticipated that, they had been so... inhumane in their dealings with the boy. He had thought that Harry had exaggerated previously but this...

"Harry, I-" he tried.

"Oh I am not done yet. My first year, I almost get myself killed four times. My second year, thrice. Not to mention the fact that you let the whole school treat me as a pariah despite knowing that I was innocent. Third year, you kept it secret from me that Black was my godfather, and see... my parent's true betrayer actually stayed in my dorm for three years. If this is, what you think is for my own good, I would like to try something bad, now. I don't see if it could go any further worse than what it already is."

Dumbledore shook his head. The meeting had digressed from its initial purpose. He had brought the boy to try to figure out the changes in him; but here the boy had put him off-guard. Perhaps another meeting was in order... later on, he mused.

"You may go, Harry."

"Thank you, Headmaster."

"Harry?"

Harry stopped midway, without turning back and asked, "Yes sir?"

"Did you see the death eaters during the world Cup?"

"No sir, I was busy... The frightened people swayed me. I even lost track of where to go, but luckily, I found Hermione."

Albus Dumbledore looked at him with a queer look, his bright blue eyes twinkling merrily. "Very well, you may go."

* * *

 **Back in the Gryffindor Dorms...**

"Hey Neville? Are you intending to put your name as well?" Seamus teased. Neville look at him embarrassedly before muttering a small 'No' before busying himself in finishing his potions homework. "You know Neville, you could even get selected, but in case they put some dangerous creatures on your path... just summon Harry and then sit on the sidelines..." Dean added to the conversation. Seamus joined in instantly, "yeah, poor bloke has had to fight so many creatures the last few years... I have even lost count."

"Dementors," Ron added, still a bit upset over Harry's decision. Dean's eyes popped up at the comment, "you mean he seriously fought off Dementors the previous year?" Ron had barely nodded when Neville joined into the conversation. "He fought off a troll in our first year to save Hermione."

Ron was almost going to shout out in indignation that he too had helped defeat the troll when Dean supplied, "let's not forget the Slytherin's monster he faced in our second year." Ron's face reddened a bit over that comment. He had stayed on the sidelines and had no practical part in Harry's adventure down the Chamber of secrets. The fallen rock archway was too much of an obstruction for that.

"Who do you think is going to be selected?" Neville put in, unable to keep himself off from what seemed like an interesting discussion. Dean spoke out, "Well considering that Dumbledore said- ('he promised' Seamus interrupted) - "right, so as Dumbledore promised that he would put safeguards, I am not sure if anyone less than seventeen could get through it."

"Hear! Hear!" Seamus nodded, cheering up with his glass of butterbeer, "I think Angelina will be selected, or maybe Alicia...as long as it is a Gryffindor, I will not mind."

"Angelina was really interested when old man talked about the tournament." Dean broke in. "You would know," Dean began, "you are the one who keeps staring at her b-" Seamus punched him on the shoulder before Dean could finish that comment, while the rest chortled.

"So it won't be Harry, that's for sure, though with his luck, you never know." Neville mumbled, getting nods from the rest as he gulped down butterbeer off his glass. "Besides the bloke- Harry!" finding said boy walking into the dorms towards them. "Hey guys!" Harry wished, immediately being handed over a glass of butterbeer from Seamus. "Partying are we?"

"We are having an important discussion about the future prospective Triwizard Champion." Dean replied, his voice swaying. "Ah!" Harry deadpanned. "I dint know you even knew the word 'prospective'" Seamus butted in, much to Dean's consternation.

"Well guys, thanks for the butterbeer, I will now go and take a nap." Harry exclaimed, already feeling tired after the extenuating circumstances since morning. "Good night guys!"

"Bloke can't get a rest!" Seamus exclaimed while Ron sat silent, gulping in more butterbeer.

* * *

 **The next morning...**

The Gryffindors were busy with their breakfast when Mcgonagall began distributing their new yearly class schedules to the fourth-years. Reaching Harry, she stood for a moment, thinking again on her talk with Potter the previous night, before forwarding his new schedule. "Here Potter, I changed the slots for Divination and Creatures with Runes and Arithmancy. I have consulted with the respective professors and they have allowed you to take one week off for revision if you wish, before appearing for the test."

Harry denied and looked up, "No thanks professor, I am ready when they are." Mcgonagall raised her eyebrows at the comment. Potter's wordings may seem like a boast, but it was more of a statement—a strange sense of confidence from knowing that he would be able to not only pass it, but more like breeze through it. She wondered what might have caused the changes in him.

"Very well Potter. I will inform them of your decision."

"Harry, I know you said that you studied Arithmancy and Runes, but don't you think you are being too overconfident about this?" Hermione put in. "Arithmancy is really tough, you know."

"I will manage." Harry commented offhandedly.

"If you say so," Hermione answered, not believing in her friend's words. "At least don't waste your time and come to me after you face the reality. I have my last year's notes and can help you understand them." She replied condescendingly.

"I will... keep that in mind, Hermione." Harry replied, a strange expression on his face.

* * *

"You are more than qualified to enter the fourth-year class, Congratulations!" said Septima Vector, the professor of Arithmancy.

Harry gave a subtle nod towards Hermione who gave off a 'huff' all the same time trying to keep a smile floating on her face. For all her talents, Hermione Granger was pants when it came to controlling her emotions. It was a miracle that he never saw it in her. To be honest, he did; but he was too much of a brat to understand its significance the previous time round.

The Arithmancy class was the most underpopulated class in all Hogwarts, the current fourth-year only holding eight students in them. Harry and Hermione from Gryffindor; Su Li, Padma Patil and Antony Goldstein from Ravenclaw and finally Daphne Greengrass and Tracy Davis from Slytherin. The next class on the underpopulated list was Muggle studies and it still held fourteen students, majority of them being Hufflepuffs and some Gryffindors.

"Today, we are going to revise some of the concepts we covered in the previous year." Septima Vector began. The regal-looking woman, some fifty years of age indeed knew her subject. From the Potter journals, Harry had known that Septima Vector was a contemporary of his grandmother Dorea Potter nee Black, and was an accomplished Master in her subject.

Thus began a grilling discussion about the Arithmantic concepts of spells for the next two hours; the only difference being that one green-eyed student was being quite... interactive during the discussion. The dark lord Harry Potter was no Master of the subject, but he had studied advanced Arithmancy enough to breeze through his NEWTS if he wished. What started as a numerical analysis of standard spells turned into a comparative analysis of Arithmantic projections for defensive shields. At the end of the class, Septima Vector went up to him and asked the question troubling her mind straight away.

"How long have you been studying Arithmancy, Potter?"

Harry was about to give her the same answer he had given Mcgonagall but Vector cut him short. "Don't give me that load of tripe about you studying in the summer. I am a prodigy at Arithmancy and even I could not learn what you did in a single summer. So tell me, Harry Potter, how did you suddenly become an expert at Arithmancy?"

Harry sighed. Apparently, the claims of Septima Vector being highly intelligent were not unreasonable. "I have been studying the subject since my second year, professor."

"Is it so?" questioned the regal woman, raising her eyebrow.

"Yes." Harry shot back.

"Very well, I know not why you did not attend the third year class despite having a sound knowledge in the subject from your second year as you stated," Vector began but Harry cut him off, "I wanted to be with my friend Ron Weasley for Divination, professor."

Vector raised an eyebrow, eyeing him akin to an eagle. "No matter, now that you have taken an active interest in learning the subject formally, you are welcome to consult me in your forthcoming private studies; for I am sure you know the fourth-year subject matter already."

"Excuse me?"

"Do not mock me Potter," the stern woman continued, "your questions and the details in your answers clearly show an advanced and thorough knowledge of Arithmancy, something which I rarely find even in my OWL students. I do not know how you did what you did, but it is my job to make sure my students are fairly challenged by their syllabus. I shall be taking another test, in order to check your true knowledge in Arithmancy, and then depending on it, I shall hand you assignments that can pose as a proper challenge to you."

"As you feel right, Professor." Harry answered, cursing himself inwardly for falling into another problem. Vector eyed him curiously. "Tell me Potter, is your... _private_ education limited to just Arithmancy or is Runes also included in the list?"

Harry swallowed for an instant, deciding how much information to reveal. He was already into deep shit with the Unspeakables, and had barely kept Dumbledore at bay for the moment. Vector had already surmised enough about his advanced knowledge, perhaps a bit of truth would help...

"Yes Ma'am," he added with a sigh, "Runes are also added to the list. In fact, I privately study almost all the core subjects extensively, though I hold back in exams." _Lo! Take that!_ He thought.

Vector eyed him speculatively and asked, "May I know the reason behind your ' _apparent'_ subjugation?"

Harry thought for a moment. "My relatives... they are not very keen when it comes to my education. I have always been _taught_ to remain subdued and not display my talents. When I came here, I was instant friends with Ron and Hermione. Ron never studies and Hermione... she studies too much. I guess the constant presence of two extremes made me choose some sort of a middle ground."

"Hmm," Vector nodded, listening to his explanation, "be as that may, I expect nothing but the best from my students. Tell me, how far ahead are you in Arithmancy and Runes?"

Harry decided to give it a shot. "I am fair hand at developing new spells using runic matrices."

Vector raised her eyebrows. "Indeed? What have you done so far?"

Harry grinned and whipped his wand out. "I have developed a single spell which will be able to be body-bind and silence a person simultaneously." Vector nodded, impressed by her student's prowess. While the two individual spells were quite simple and any third year could cast it with ease, the wand movements of both spells were almost opposite, making it tough to combine them together. To have done the same using a runic matrix was almost... extraordinary."

She drew her own wand and conjured a dummy. "Cast it on this." She said while casting an animation charm on the dummy, which made sure that it made a lot of noise as it moved. Harry waved his wand in a triangular arc and thought hard on the rune he had developed during his early days of studying advanced runic matrices. The triangular rune materialized in front of him as he shove his wand forwards. A single bolt of light crimson shot out of his wand and hit the dummy, making it bound and silenced.

"Well done!" Vector clapped happily, her earlier stern appearance vanishing on spot. "Though I must say, the spell needs some work if you want to use it during a duel." Harry complied, knowing very well how correct she was. Besides, he had developed the spell later on.

"This will be your new project, creating this spell from scratch. Apart from this, if you need any further references, my office and I are always at your service. Now off you go." She exclaimed, before heading towards her own office.

* * *

"Was that truly Harry Potter? There is no way that the odd kid-in-rags that we shared our classes with for three years is the same person we saw today. They are just too bloody different." Tracy remarked.

"Granger wasn't impressed. She was scowling almost throughout the class. That bint." Daphne agreed. Tracy let out a laugh. "Oh come on Daph, we all know that you hate her because she tops over you in Transfiguration and Runes." Daphne scowled at her, but said nothing. Tracy continued, "Besides with the way Potter was leading the class today, I think you will also lose Arithmancy on your list."

"Not helping, Davis." Daphne murmured, while Tracy chortled at her friend's plight. "You know," her face turning serious, "I thought about what you said last night, and it makes sense. Are you sure that there was an unspeakable there in the compartment?"

Daphne nodded subtly.

"Maybe we should go and talk to Potter sometime. Who knows, maybe we can even get something out of it."

"You are just saying that because you want to get him inside a broom closet." Daphne remarked. "Promises, promises, Greengrass." Tracy winked.

* * *

Finishing the Arithmancy class, Harry had headed for Astronomy after which he had Potions. Good old Snivellus! He mused, almost sarcastically at the fact at how Dumbledore hired a death-eater as a potential spy. Hiring Severus Snape was perhaps the worst decision ever made by the old man, considering how the man was ultimately responsible for his death. One of Harry's pet peeves was the way Dumbledore would go out of his way to trust an ex-death eater while he clearly withheld information away from trustworthy people like Flitwick and Mcgonagall. It was almost like a simmering cauldron, one more mistake and the entire cauldron would explode. The Ministry had forbidden corporal punishment; death eaters were free and out of prison by bribing the Minister; Dumbledore was busy handing out second chances to everyone and their uncle; a death eater was doing all he could to make sure that the Slytherins continued to bully everyone else, and go out of his way to defend Malfoy.

Entering the Potions classroom, he walked over to a corner and stood, waiting for Snape to zoom in like a bat, as he preferred. For a person who spent his time in the dark dungeons, Severus Snape was much more melodramatic than necessary. Harry wondered if the man was just bat-like, or did he actually have an animagus form of a bat. Knowing how sneaky Snape was, it was not an unreasonable thought.

Just as the bell rang, the potions master swooped into the class. Seven years at Hogwarts and still Harry had no idea where exactly the Potions master hid before swooping into the class out of nowhere. Deciding to find the secret out this time, he readied himself for another year of continuous altercations between himself and the 'greasy bat of the dungeons'. Of course, that was assuming that the man actually survived the year.

Severus Snape walked across the room, his cloak billowing as he walked- his wand waving as the windows vibrated and shut on their own, sealing the room in darkness as the lights activated on the walls. Settling himself beyond the table, the man looked at the students in front of him.

"This year we will be working on much more complicated draughts and potions, and hence I will be dividing you in pairs. The assignments will be different for every group, and as unfortunate as it is, the lack of due diligence of some-" his onyx eyes rested on Harry for a while—"will likely affect the performance of others."

The class looked at each other as they automatically shifted into groups of two. Snape gave a sneer and continued, "For the cause of inter-house cooperation, our esteemed Headmaster has decided that the groups should be of a mixed nature. I will be naming the groups and you all will shift accordingly. Is that clear?"

Silence.

"Good. Now the names... Hannah Abbot and Theodore Nott, Lavender Brown and Justin Finch-fletchley, Susan Bones and..." the names continued until... "Padma Patil and Blaise Zabini, Harry Potter and... Daphne Greengrass."- Tracy and Daphne glanced at each other as Tracy passed a grin at her friend while Daphne merely frowned, and looked up at Potter who was merely standing casually, not even looking at her.

After the groups were made, Snape assigned them individual potion recipes and set them off. Harry walked up to where Daphne and Tracy were standing, murmuring to each other. "Miss Greengrass, Miss Davis..." he wished, nodding his head subtly in Pureblood manner.

If the girls were shocked, they did not show it. Curtsying him back, the girls looked at each other before Tracy took her leave to accompany Antony Goldstein, leaving Daphne alone with him. "I suppose you will want to work at your station?" Harry suggested, while Daphne nodded curtly.

"You are quite different from what I thought you were, Potter." Daphne murmured loud enough for Potter to hear her while working on her station. She had begun to cut the buds while Harry had undertaken the job of crushing the twigs. "A lot of people would agree with you, Greengrass." Harry answered, a casual expression stuck on his face.

"Indeed," she agreed, before taking over the stirring part of the potion making process while Harry focused on extracting the juice out of the shriveled buds. The Invigoration Draught was a nasty piece of work if one did not know what to do. Dark Lord he might be, but Harry Potter was never meant to be great at Potions. Thankfully, Daphne was doing a good enough job for the both of them.

Snape had already begun to roam across the rows, often stopping and sniffing into the cauldrons, the frown almost fixed to his face as he walked. Eventually, he reached Harry's station. Checking the progression, he commented, "Miss Greengrass, I offer my condolences that you have to work with one quite...neanderthal at potions, but you are doing well enough. Good work."

Harry looked up at Snape for a moment and smirked, before turning down to face the simmering cauldron. Snape waited for a moment, waiting for Potter to demonstrate his well-known arrogant defiance. However, it never came. Deciding to step it up a little, he went on. "Twenty Points from Gryffindor, Potter for not working and letting your partner do all the work."

Harry looked up at Snape, a cruel smile forcing its way upon his casual expression, as he looked at Snape in the eye, almost taunting him to try his Legilimency on him. As expected, Snape's hatred for the boy got the better of his instincts as he cast a powerful Legilimency foray into Potter's mind. Knowing how pathetic Potter's mental shields were, it would be terribly easy to bypass his shields and figure out what the blasted brat was thinking in that hormonal cesspool of a mind. The problem was, the shields never rose.

Instead, Severus Snape found himself getting further and further diving into a hole of eternal darkness, and felt the gravity sink him deep and deep enough. It was almost a never-ending pit of inky blackness, and the gravity seemed to become more and more as he felt his consciousness drawn inside. After what seemed like eternity pass, Severus Snape felt himself forlorn and truly lost.

"What is this? POTTER?" He raged, trying to break through the mindscape he was in. He knew it was merely some kind of illusion, just as all mindscapes were, but the gravity... it felt so real. It was almost... tangible. "POTTER! Let me out of here!" he shouted, whipping his wand up in his hand as he tried to weave through the inky blackness.

"Hello Snivellus!"

Snape gasped, as he turned back, shocked to find a splitting image of James Potter standing opposite him, his wand twirling in his palm. A whip of the mahogany wand, and Snape was lifted up by the ankle as he felt his clothes vanish away. Naked and embarrassed, he tried to fight his way out of the charm, but nothing seemed to happen. He tried to caste some magic, but still nothing happened.

"What happened Professor? Too far away from your core to cast any magic?" The voice belonged to none other than Harry Potter himself, one who was now walking towards him.

"Potter! You detestable brat! Let me out of here! A hundred points from Gryffindor!" He yelled vehemently. Harry smirked cruelly at looked at the detestable man-child in front of him. "Pity! Pity! You Severus Snape, hoisted and naked, and yet your arrogance knows no bounds, Professor. I believe it is time you experienced some of the humiliation you like to give out so much." The figure of Harry Potter vanished and James Potter took the stage, casting a succession of stinging spells at the bound body of Severus Snape as he lay hoisted, inverted above what seemed like a never-ending blackness all around.

"Enjoy your stay! Professor!" A disembodied voice belonging to Harry Potter resonated throughout the darkness as Severus Snape felt himself tortured and humiliated by his all-time arch-nemesis repeatedly.

* * *

Daphne watched with surprise as Potter looked up at the Potions master and looked at him directly in the eye. She rolled her eyes at the boy's lack of self-preservation. Knowing how much Snape loved to peek into the minds of others, she knew that the brat was doing nothing except giving Snape a free ride into his deepest secrets and memories; but then, things suddenly turned interesting.

Snape's eyes widened as the thinly veiled smirk wiped off his face, and an unusual expression formed on it. An expression, which later gave rise to a vacant expression on the pale face, almost as if he were sleeping with his eyes open. It was almost as if he were... dead. Daphne internally scoffed at the ridiculous idea. For all the annoying forms of precociousness that Potter might have displayed in the recent years, he did not have a basilisk's gaze of all things. For the second time, Daphne Greengrass stood stunned as Severus Snape fell flat over the floor, his body falling with a brief thud as the vacant expression still held onto his pale face.

Shrieks of fear and anxiety broke out in the classroom, as the Slytherin students formed a big group around them, most of them trying to understand what had happened to their Head of House. Most of them were giving odd looks to Potter who still stood there with a nonchalant expression on his face; one that was slowly turning into a fake worried expression.

"Are you all right, Professor?" Daphne heard him say. Just as she expected, there was no answer. Her fears of something being wrong about Potter, her observations at the Train, the interaction with the Unspeakables and everything else came to the forefront of her mind, but she quickly hid them behind her solid mental shields. If her suspicions were true, something had happened to Potter. There was either something very wrong with Potter, or this was not Harry Potter at all.

"What have you done to Professor Snape, Potter?" Malfoy lashed out. Crabbe, Goyle and the rest of his henchmen stood behind the blonde as a show of his support. Potter put on a confused expression and answered, "Me? I was just doing my work. Greengrass here knows it, don't you, Greengrass?" He turned towards her, much to her surprise.

Never in her dreams had Daphne believed that Potter would suddenly pull her into the event like that. She glanced at Professor Snape's fallen body, and at the anxious face of Malfoy, and then into the bright green eyes of Potter, which glinted... for a moment. Her entire psyche wanted to scream out that she agreed with Malfoy's accusation, but something held her back. When she did open her mouth however... "Potter is correct. I saw it. He did nothing."

Malfoy looked at her in fury, but did not continue the matter. A couple of anxious shouts later, Malfoy and his cronies levitated the fallen professor and darted off towards the Hospital wing, cursing loudly as they departed. The rest of the students too followed suit. Daphne decided to join them but then something happened that shot up a cold shudder up her spine. She looked back and saw Harry Potter holding her hand and gesturing her not to leave. Swallowing, she stopped trying to escape and stood still, feeling his palm leave her arm. Her outer mask remained as tight as usual, while she was shivering in fear inwards. However this was, it was not Harry Potter. Almost all of the class had left for the Hospital wing, and now she was alone in the room, with a very deadly wizard who was _not_ Harry Potter.

* * *

 **### Well that was it. Please read and review. Once again, I am having some serious beta-issues, and hence there might be some typo errors in the chapter. Please forgive me for that. Anyways, all always, your reviews and suggestions work wonders for my muse (Speaking of which, I have been having some muse problems lately).**


	11. Chapter 11 : Finding Troubles

_Malfoy looked at her in fury, but did not continue the matter. A couple of anxious shouts later, Malfoy and his cronies levitated the fallen professor and darted off towards the Hospital wing, cursing loudly as they departed. The rest of the students too followed suit. Daphne decided to join them but then something happened that shot up a cold shudder up her spine. She looked back and saw Harry Potter holding her hand and gesturing her not to leave. Swallowing, she stopped trying to escape and stood still, feeling his palm leave her arm. Her outer mask remained as tight as usual, while she was shivering in fear inwards. However this was, it was not Harry Potter. Almost all of the class had left for the Hospital wing, and now she was alone in the room, with a very deadly wizard who was not Harry Potter._

* * *

Never in her life had Daphne been so mortally afraid as she was right now. Potter, or whomever it was imposing as Potter, was alone with her in the deserted Potions classroom. The last of the Gryffindors had also left, and now she was just alone with him. She cursed Tracy for not waiting for her. She cursed Snape for putting her with Potter for the Potions work.

"Yes, Potter?"

"Thank you for your help, Miss Greengrass. Your support was... most appreciated."

"Think nothing of it, Potter. After all," Daphne felt some amount of her inner courage reappear, "It was not as if you _did_ something."

"Of course not." Harry answered offhandedly. Daphne pursed her lips, and looked up at the strange boy. "You are different from... what you appeared to be last year."

Harry eyed her strangely and then smirked, "Have you been noticing me, Miss Greengrass?" Daphne widened her eyes for a fractional instant before her calm demeanor settled on her face. "You are the Boy-who-lived. Why wouldn't anyone notice you?"

Harry let out a hollow laugh. "Yes, you are correct. Boy-who-lived! Indeed. Strange how an odd tag puts you in the limelight."

"To be honest, I have never quite seen you enjoying the limelight, despite what Professor Snape and Malfoy have to say."

"True, True." Harry nodded his head absentmindedly, "Professor Snape suffers from an acute case of... _obsession_ when it comes to me." The shrieks of Severus Snape deep inside his mind reinforced the truth of the statement. "He could never grow out of it."

"Yes of course, funny how that obsession causes _strange_ things to happen."

"Strange things you say?" Harry smirked.

"Yeah." Daphne answered offhandedly, "It is just a coincidence that he is suddenly _petrified_ , shall we say, while staring at his _obsession's eyes_. Like I said," her nervous face shifted into a smirk, "Strange things."

Harry nodded subtly. "True."

Daphne decided that she had played enough. "I believe I have some business to attend to. It was... _nice_ , talking to you." She strode forward, crossing the row and was almost at the door. Her hand reached forward to hold the doorknob... if only...

"Miss Greengrass," Harry called out.

"Yes?" Daphne answered, an odd sense of desperation flitting through her spine. She just stood there, not turning back at him.

"You know what happens to those who decide to look for trouble?"

"What?" she asked with an almost genuine curiosity in her voice.

"They find it."

Daphne whirled around, her wand almost ready to be called into her palm. She found the eerily bright emerald eyes staring back at her, an amused expression stuck in them.

"Just a thought. It flitted through my mind; I thought I should share it with you."

Daphne nodded subtly, whirled around and walked out of the door.

* * *

Harry watched her leave the room. Had he not been an accomplished Legilimens, he would never have garnered the true potential of the girl who strode past him. She had seen him invite Snape and had observed how the greasy old bat fell down to his mental prowess. She had seen him lie in front of the whole class and put up a 'worried' mask, and she knew very well that he was the culprit. That was exactly when Harry had looked back at her for an instant and legilimized her. For a fourth year, the girl had sufficiently high-powered mental defenses. Considering that most students at Hogwarts did not even begin building mental defenses before NEWTS, it said a lot about her resilience and potential. Her shields were almost at par with someone like Nott senior or Rudolphus Lestrange; but the dark lord Potter was nothing if not unconventional. Unlike the conventional Legilimency approaches in which the attacker forced his way into the victim's mind and tried to construe relevant information; Harry's method involved compelling the victim to think of the desired information and then Harry would see it. It was something he had copied from Lord Voldemort- not one of his best memories, but it worked fine.

The girl had eavesdropped on his conversations with the Unspeakable and had broken into the compartment and found it empty. She had her suspicions whether someone was posing as Harry Potter at Hogwarts. She had kept it to herself, at least what he had garnered from her memories. That was good, since that made Obliviation a good response, though after what happened in the potions class, he was unsure if she would still keep it to herself. His mind could not but reminisce of the future self of the same slytherin girl who just passed him by.

The most feared witch among the Traditional Purebloods. The most ruthless mercenary for hire, the most pragmatic and powerful of them all, one who had crossed wands with the dark lord Potter not once, but several times. The Bellatrix Lestrange of his generation.

Daphne 'Raven' Greengrass. Raven because of her animagus form. That one single pragmatic witch had foiled many of the dark lord Potter's plans to take down the entire Wizengamot.

 _My one truly opponent. One, which I can respect. And this time, she will be on my side._

His mind shifted to the future back again. His team members. His inner council. Neville Longbottom. Burned alive in a Fiendfyre while trying to save a hundred wizards from the clutches of Inferno. Susan Bones, dead in the experimental lab along with several hundreds of others. Theodore Nott, killed while Harry himself was trying to set up their greatest failsafe option. The option of Time Travel. Blaise Zabini, killed while defending the contingent while the dark lord Potter was ravaging the Inferno Headquarters. Jonathan Smith, Fred Weasley and Justin Finch-Fletchley, killed in the final war before the end. Draco Malfoy, killed in a clash with the war drones, trying to save his wife Astoria, and finally, Gabrielle Delacour, their researcher and the creator of the runic portal that facilitated his time travel.

All of them killed in the attempt to make the world free from the clutches of Inferno Corporation. An army of mundanes equipped with technology, both mundane and magical, thanks to the efforts of one Hermione Jane Granger. All because she wanted to make the magical world a 'damn' copy of the mundane. Harry's fingers twitched at the thought of that girl still living and breathing.

It would be so damn easy to kill her, for once and for all. It was almost an irony that on his first travel to Hogwarts by the Express, he had met his greatest supporter, his greatest foe, his greatest betrayer, and one of his most faithful friend.

 _And I had misjudged them all._

Harry sighed. This time, it would all be different. It had to be.

* * *

Daphne could have sworn that she had never been so mortally afraid in her life. Her heart was yelling at her, telling that there was a dangerous and deadly wizard behind her and had his eyes upon her. Her mind told her to keep calm and just walk away, as fast as could be possible. There was something about Harry Potter, something inexplicable. Something that made her realize that she had just been in the presence of the most dangerous individual she had ever met.

And he was only fourteen years old.

Daphne somehow managed to cross the illusionary wall separating the Slytherin dormitories from the rest of the dungeons. Although she was sure that if Harry Potter wanted, it would not stop him from entering. After all, Potter was a Parselmouth, and this was the dormitory for Slytherin. The thought sent a cold shudder down her spine.

"Daph? Daph!"

Daphne whirled in surprise. A sense of elation filled her as she found her best friend, Tracy Davis standing beside her. The auburn-haired girl walked towards her, and held her arm. "What happened to-why are you shaking, Daph?" Her voice was full of concern.

"Potter!" Daphne swallowed, "Potter knows that I know about his meeting with the Unspeakables. Potter knew that I knew about what happened to Snape. Potter knew that I could tell on him, and he held me back and told me-" her face flushed with fear, "Potter is going to come after me if I do not stop snooping around in his business."

Tracy's face shifted to something...else. "You mean, he threatened you?"

Daphne nodded in denial. "Of course not," she stood up and paced the room, "He just knew somehow that I knew, and that I was eavesdropping on him. And he very subtly warned me not to do so." She turned to her friend, her face flushed with anxiety, "he told me one single thing."

"What?"

"Those who go look for trouble, find it."

Tracy raised her eyebrows. "That doesn't sound like the Potter we know."

"And what exactly do we know about Potter? The moment I was paired with him, I created a miniature rune ward to detect a person's identity. I just wanted to be sure if the Point-Me charm had gone wrong or something. It was Potter. That person, no matter how odd it sounds, _is_ Harry Potter."

"And you knew this when?"

"Just after I left him at the classroom. The runic circle requires the presence of one single person inside it- the person whose identity is to be judged. Before I left the room, I managed to look at my workstation, the color was still normal. It meant one simple thing. That person was not an imposter."

"But that means..."

Daphne turned towards Tracy with an odd look, "It means whatever we knew about Potter was just a front. A mask whose name was 'the Boy-who-Lived' and something has happened, forcing him to show his true self. That is all I can think of."

Tracy's face was an odd mixture of conflicting emotions. "Daph! I think we can exploit this, for ourselves."

Daphne looked at her friend as if she had just grown two heads. "Are you insane?"

"No wait hear me out," Tracy demanded, "- as of right now, what is the biggest thing that is screwing up _your_ life?" Daphne had almost begun to say something but Tracy beat her to it once again, "except this thing with Potter."

Daphne stopped and withheld her comment, before slowly swallowing. "The betrothal contract with Malfoy?"

Tracy's grin deepened. "And who is the one person at Hogwarts that would be perfect for the job?"

Daphne looked at her friend with an inscrutable expression on his face, before whispering, "You mean..."

"Harry Potter."

* * *

Severus Snape considered himself one resilient and intelligent person. A consummate slytherin, one who had been a slave to two Masters and yet had come out the winner out of his dealings with either. He had risen to power and acquired the remaining fortune of the Prince name, especially since the Dark Lord had helped him kill the other existing members and then force the sole remaining member to sign out the family to Snape, only to behead him after it was done. He then successfully had his fingers into the sentiments of Albus Dumbledore, playing upon the old man's need to provide others with second chances. He had played out his sorrow at Lily's death wonderfully and had himself out of prison, not to mention the post of Potions master and a free reign to mold the future generations into something like himself. For ten years, his reign had been absolute until that one boy entered into the halls of Hogwarts.

Harry Potter.

That detestable brat, arrogant like his father, a moron if there ever was, and the epitome of Gryffindor. Now, he had become the bane of Severus Snape's life.

He had even forgotten how long he was there, held prisoner in the depth so Potter's mindscape. Never had he imagined something like that to happen, such mental and magical prowess, and that too in James Potter's spawn... it was inconceivable. After being continuously tortured for hours and days and...Well time seemed to have no essence here, what with him being held prisoner amidst never-ending void of infinite blackness. Now though, he was completely spent, exhausted and... Ready to die.

"Feeling good, ya Snivellus?" the detestable brat was back.

"Get me out of here, Potter!" he wailed and screamed, "Dumbledore will find me." It was a false threat, for he knew that for all of the old man's powers, it was almost impossible to deduce how or what caused him to be as such.

"I will... I will, but before that, I will have some fun with you. You love spending time in other's minds too much, don't you? I will try to give you a taste of your own medicine!" The brat smirked before Severus felt a humongous force hit his shields. His shields felt the force, but held somehow. It was then that the second attack came. One that felt like a sharp knife. It cut like hot steel through melting butter.

Then the screams began.

* * *

"What exactly do you think happened to Severus, Poppy?" Albus Dumbledore peered into the still body of his potions Master, muttering odd phrases in obscure languages, trying to figure out what might have happened to the man. Poppy was busy whispering her own incantations and poking her wand at various intervals. Finally convinced, she looked up at the Headmaster.

"It appears that his consciousness is missing."

"You mean he is unconscious? It cannot just be that simple!" Dumbledore refuted. Poppy nodded in denial. "You are wrong Headmaster, what I mean is his 'consciousness' or rather, his mental presence is missing. It is just his body over here. If not for his body still acting normal, I would have proclaimed him dead."

"What?"

"That is all I can say, Headmaster."

"Hmmm..." Dumbledore mused. "Is it possible that he has tried to perform some kind of astral jump?"

Poppy looked incensed. "Albus Dumbledore, you are out of your bloody mind. Astral jump? Someone like you could try doing it, but Severus, No way. Besides, he was in the middle of a class."

"Not at all." Dumbledore agreed. "Unless..." He looked up towards Poppy, "send some of the students present at the scene to my office. I need to hear what they have to say."

"Young Mr. Malfoy was proclaiming that Potter had something to do with it all." Poppy answered with a smile on her face as she brushed off the ridiculousness of the fact.

"Right!" Dumbledore muttered, more to himself than to Poppy, "Very well, send them up."

* * *

 _First day at Hogwarts. Fight with Unspeakables. Verbal spar with Dumbledore. Snape already dispatched to Hospital wing. Weasley and Granger at arm's length. First interaction with Raven._

 _Not bad._

Harry smirked. The year looked promising to say at least. He walked candidly towards the Room of Requirement, the invisibility still in full effect.

 _Time to get the diadem._

He walked past the blank wall three times, the illusion working just as perfectly as always. His mind, focused on one single thought.

 _I want to enter the Room of hidden things._

 _I want to enter the Room of hidden things._

 _I want to enter the Room of hidden things._

The door opened into a place the size of a cathedral with the appearance of a city, its  
towering walls built of objects hidden by thousands of long-gone students. The entire room was filled with towering lumps of objects everywhere. Finding a diadem over here was similar to finding a needle in a haystack, and he did not really have enough time.

Harry focused on his memories.

 _The tiara... The old warlock... the vanish- of course, the vanishing cabinet! The tiara was next to the cabinet._

He expanded his senses to find the cabinet. The presence of so many magical artifacts nearby made the process much more difficult than normal. After a couple of minutes, he found a lead.

 _Got it._

Keeping his magical sense firm on the cabinet, he began walking. After two minutes of weaving through the rows, he finally stood in front of the vanishing cabinet.

Hmm. Draco helped transporting Death eaters into Hogwarts using this...the other one is in Borgin and Burkes. Wonder if I...

A smirk filled his lips. "Annihilo..."

A burst of deep purple shot out of his hands, hitting at the cabinet, blasting it into smithereens. He was sure that no one would ever recognize the destroyed bits as part of a vanishing cabinet.

 _Now, the diadem..._

He extended his arm towards the tiara sitting on the head of the warlock, eager to collect it and destroy it as quick as possible, when-

"Wait!" A commanding voice interrupted his action. Harry whirled around to find the Gray Lady—Ghost of the Ravenclaw Tower drifting towards him, her hands raised in righteous fury. Letting the surprise vanish itself from his face, he adopted a look of serenity.

"Lady Helena, I did not expect I would be meeting you in such extenuating circumstances."

The look of surprise and shock flitted across the ghost woman's face. "How did you-never mind- how did you know that the diadem is here?" Her face shifted into a condescending look. "I suppose you found it and wanted to use it for yourself?"

Harry laughed. "No my Lady. If anything, I wish to destroy it."

"Why would you want to destroy my mother's precious artifact?"

"Because it has been defiled, and should I say so, defiled because you split out its secret to someone who made it into the abomination it is presently."

Tears ran down the ghost's face. "You know..."

Harry nodded.

"Is there a way to save it and repair it?" she pleaded, almost begging. Harry considered her statement, "Not without destroying its magical properties. The venom will destroy the horcrux, and at the same time, the magical properties of the diadem."

"At least the diadem will remain. That is something I guess."

Harry nodded. "May I-?"

As soon as Helena Ravenclaw gave her assent, he grabbed the diadem and dropped it on the ground. Taking out another vial of basilisk venom, he opened the vial and poured the corrosive liquid on the diadem. The diadem hissed out an inscrutable sound, almost eerily sounding like a whisper, before going completely silent.

Just like the silence before the storm.

Then, the storm came. The diadem glowed with an ethereal dark radiance before a dark smoke erupted out of it. It manifested into Voldemort's face for a moment before fading away with a scream. After an instant, all that remained was the diadem, devoid of all energies.

An incomplete thought flitted through Harry's mind. It was something related to the smoke, but he was too engrossed in the diadem and everything else that he let it pass. Picking up the diadem, he held it towards the Gray Lady who looked at it with reverence.

"Thank you Lord Potter, the Eagle of Ravenclaw will always be _indebted_ to you." She replied sorrowfully, her voice almost strained and grating for a moment. It oddly reminded him of the way Trelawney would sound when delivering one of her prophecies, but he shook himself off his reveries.

"Thank you."

The ghost smiled. "I have heard the forests telling me about a new eagle that has perched here at Hogwarts."

"Really?" Harry asked, his tone amused.

Helena smiled before looking at the wizard in apprehension. "Now that my mother's last surviving artifact is saved from the malice that maligned it over the decades, I can finally rest in peace. Farewell Harry Potter." Her tone became slightly disembodied towards the end as he saw her slowly fade away. It was not her moving away from the Room. Helena Ravenclaw had finally achieved her peace, ready for the next great adventure.

 _Now only the Cup remains. Then, Voldy and his pet are fair game._

* * *

Albus Dumbledore sat alone in his office, pondering over the recent events. Many things just did not add up at all. Ever since the day Sirius Black vanished off from the face of the earth, things had gone astray. Too much of the incidents happening ever since then, did not add up. Odd.

First was the fact that he had trouble remembering what might have happened that very night at the forest. He had slight flashes of seeing a great fire, and of someone casting a Patronus. In all possibility, it must have been Harry. An extraordinary achievement no doubt, but the boy was almost annoyingly precocious when it came to such incidents. He remembered thinking about calling the boy to have some kind of discussion, but for the life of him, he could not remember what he had discussed. It simply did not add up.

Was there a chance that Harry Potter had obliviated him?

Dumbledore discarded the thought. The young Potter was no doubt angry with him, not a great surprise considering everything he had been though, but this... this was unfathomable. Besides, for all his talents, Dumbledore could not see the boy as advanced enough to cast a memory charm, one that could manage to override Dumbledore's mental defenses. Especially considering how the elder wand added up to his mental protections, the thought was completely inconceivable.

 _There must have been some other cause. Something I am not being able to apprehend yet._

That brought another thought floating into his mind. The elder wand. Since the summer, there had been a significant loss of power in the wand. He had always felt that burning surge of power trying to hurl itself out of the mythical wand, but ever since the summer, the surge was almost absent, as if the wand had finally settled down and turned stable.

 _Something is wrong with the wand. For the first time, it feels... right, almost as if the wand has accepted me as its master perfectly._

Then of course, there was the problem regarding Severus Snape. He knew it very well that Severus had used his position to bully the students of the other Houses, and did his best to make sure Slytherins got off from persecution. Dumbledore had believed that Severus would finally see the light and discontinue his behavior. He had hoped that Lily's child would help him in that regard.

As unfortunate as it was, things had worsened after Harry Potter had returned to the Wizarding world. Severus had only seen him as James Potter's son, never as Lily's child. Severus always had a tendency to exert his passive Legilimency skills, much to his consternation. Now though, it seemed that he had reached his own folly- he had tried to legilimize young Potter and something had happened, but what... Albus could not fathom.

 _Strange things tend to happen around the Child of Prophecy..._

Albus sighed. Things were turning out to be more than what he had anticipated, and the Triwizard had not yet even begun. The venerable Headmaster folded his hands, letting out a long-drawn sigh.

* * *

Fleur sat on the bench, drawing out huge breaths. Ever since the Quidditch world cup, she had delved herself into the arts of dueling and learning curses and their counters. A formidable duelist amongst her peers, Fleur had been overwhelmed with the desire to be better ever since her experiences at the hands of those... monsters. Despite being under the Cruciatus, Fleur had heard what they were speaking. She had heard what they wanted to do with her, how they were slowly going to...break her.

 _Never again. Never again will I be so weak!_ Fleur had promised herself.

Her sessions with Master Antonio had increased, in both number and longevity of the sessions, and she had begun handling the higher forms of offensive and defensive spellcasting. Her father had allowed her access to the family library too. At the same time, she could not but think about her savior at the World Cup—the man who had saved her life. The man who had butchered those who were torturing her. A part of her mind also went back to Harry Potter, the boy she had met just once, one who was immune to her allure. Overall, she found herself much more willing and anticipating going to Britain for the Triwizard tournament.

 _I have to prove myself better. Prove that I am Fleur Delacour, and that there is no one like me._

* * *

 **### That's it for the chapter guys. Reviews please.**


	12. Chapter 12: A Deal with the Devil

The news that Severus Snape, the bat of the dungeons had been hospitalized and that Harry Potter was somehow responsible for it had spread like wildfire. Gryffindors had applauded it as his bravery, though nobody had really come up and asked him, especially since the fact that Harry Potter was a reclusive was well known to all. The Hufflepuffs were confused, whether to applaud him for his actions or fear him because he had done something, which everyone regarded as, nigh impossible. As could be expected, the rumor mill was actively involved in creating newer and newer stories about how Harry Potter had done this impossible feat.

The treatment continued for almost a week that followed. As he would enter a corridor, it would fall silent as the students would almost suck in their breath and wait for him to pass. For the first few days, he had even enjoyed it, but soon enough, the silent treatment had turned downright ridiculous. Fred and George, as expected had found humor in this as was expected. In some ways, it reminded Harry of his days during the second year, when people had suspected him of being Slytherin's heir. As of now, he was being referred to as some mage who had a basilisk's gaze of all things, seeing as Snape had looked into his eyes and had himself petrified.

It had gone beyond ridiculous soon enough. Dumbledore had asked him to visit him in his office and had asked him to give his own account of the incident. There had been some amount of passive Legilimency involved but given Harry's shields, all the old man had found was inky blackness; something that had evolved into one of the more uncomfortable conversations.

 **FLASHBACK**

"Tell me Harry, what do you know about Occlumency?"

Harry looked at Dumbledore with an odd look. "What is that, sir?"

Dumbledore folded his hands and rested his chin over his fingers. "Occlumency is an obscure art which helps a wizard to shield his mind. You say you do not know anything about it?"

"No sir." Something told Dumbledore that it was the same type of 'No' Tom Riddle had often given him. He sat up straight, "Let me get it straight, Harry. Last year you did not have any form of mental defenses, and yet now you have extremely high-powered mental shields; and yet you say that you do not know anything about it?"

Harry gave the Headmaster a cold look. "Headmaster, I am telling you the last time that I have no idea what you are talking about."

"Very well." The Headmaster sighed, "Will you give me the permission to perform a spell on you? I promise it is only to test a theory."

Harry scrunched his face in confusion. "I am not sure, Professor. What exactly are you going to do?"

"I am going to test your mental shields. I assure you my attack will be completely harmless. I will not violate your privacy."

 _That is a first._

Harry smirked inwardly. "Very well professor."

Dumbledore looked at him straight in the eye and held his wand towards him. Bracing himself, Harry held his breath waiting for the attack to come. Dumbledore focused on the wand and whispered, "Legilimens!"

A surge of magical energy seemed to enter into Harry's mind. The problem was, there were no mental shields at all, unlike what could be expected normally. Dumbledore extended his foray outward and tried to figure out the location of Harry's mental shields. He found none.

"This is strange. There is only...endless darkness all around. No shields, no mindscape, no memories... how strange!" Dumbledore mused. He tried radiating in one particular direction, hoping that the darkness was some kind of illusion but found none. Disappointed, he exited out of Harry's mindscape.

"Tell me Harry, did you find anything?"

Harry nodded in denial. "Nothing at all, Professor. All I felt was some kind of force trying to enter my mind for an instant before it seemed to vanish away." Dumbledore rubbed his temples in frustration. He had lived for an extraordinarily long age, and despite that, he had never found anyone with this kind of mental defense.

"Are you sure you feel nothing at all, Harry?"

"Nothing at all, professor."

"Will you mind me trying once again for the second time?"

Harry scrunched his face. Becoming Dumbledore's personal lab rat was not high up in his to-do list. "I am not sure, Professor. I kind of, like keeping my secrets to myself."

"Hmm... yes you are right. My apologies, you may go."

"Thank you professor."

 _I wonder what might have happened to Severus._ Dumbledore could not help but muse.

 **END OF FLASHBACK**

The distance between Harry and Hermione had increased much further than either had expected. Needless to say, Harry wasn't going to complain. Ever since his performance had risen, Hermione had drifted away from him. Whenever Harry answered a question, it would erupt a frown in her face. That had given rise to one of the more odd incidents in Mcgonagall's class.

 **FLASHBACK**

"Today we are going to learn some basic applications of transfiguration that are applicable in defense and dueling. The headmaster has prevailed upon us professors to include certain aspects of practical defense into our course schedules this year, because of the Triwizard Tournament and its related tasks. From this week onwards, we shall focus on basic animation and inanimate conjuration and how to apply it during a duel." Mcgonagall lectured to everyone seated in class.

"You reckon there will be some kind of dueling event in the tournament?" Tracy whispered. The duo had still not tried to face Potter and talk to him, despite Tracy's numerous trials. Except in classes, no one seemed to have any idea where Potter spent his free time. It was almost as if Potter would vanish away. Tracy had her suspicions about Potter disillusioning himself and spending time in some unused part of the castle. Why he did that, she had no idea, though Daphne had her suspicions.

"I don't know, but there is some chance to it though." Daphne whispered back. The raven-haired girl, for all her reclusiveness, was a fearsome duelist. After all, it wasn't just her cold behavior and pretty face, which had got her the 'Ice Queen' moniker. Marcus Flint, Thomas Belby and many more could stand witness at what would follow whenever someone threatened her. Jonathan Greengrass had made sure that his eldest daughter's wand skills were at par with her cunning. It was not public news but the elder Greengrass spent her summers in dueling competitions, honing her skill.

"You could try and win it, if they allow us to participate, that is." Tracy teased, knowing how good her best friend was with a wand.

"I could, but we will have to see. Look at Potter." Daphne countered, subtly nodding towards the emerald-eyed boy who had his wand laid aside almost casually. Mcgonagall took the center of the stage and then spoke again.

"Defensive and offensive Transfiguration require one to cast quickly and efficiently. It takes a lot of practice and honed skill to become a transfiguration master in dueling. Since this is not something one can learn sitting in your chairs, I invite you one by one to come and try defending yourself against my attacks using Transfiguration alone. Anyone?"

Harry lazily raised his hand, his wand still lying beside him on the desk in front. The transfiguration professor called him up, and he was almost about to stand when-

"Please professor, I believe I can perform better." Hermione Granger uttered loudly, shocking the class. The brown-haired girl ignored the bitter looks the rest of the class gave her, and looked up at Mcgonagall, who frowned at her. "Are you sure you couldn't wait, Miss Granger? Potter here was the first to volunteer, after all."

"Of course professor, I am sure I will be a better choice. After all, it is not like I cheat and try to better my class performance." Hermione commented snidely, ignoring the odd look Harry was giving her. It was something of an argument the two had some days ago. Harry had finished off his runes and Arithmancy homework faster than Hermione, and had refused to show it to her when she had demanded it. Her obvious inference was that Harry was somehow cheating and using others to help to do his work for him. Reasonably, Harry had given her a 'you-mistake-me-for-someone-who-gives-a-damn' look and walked away.

Mcgonagall turned to Harry who simply shrugged and sat back down. Had Granger looked back, she would have seen Daphne glaring at her with her narrowed eyes, which had turned into slits. She walked out of the row and strode towards the center of the room. Mcgonagall left the center and stood at a side, ushering her to do the same.

"Now I am going to attack you using Transfiguration, and you must also defend yourself using the same. All attacks and defenses must be through Transfiguration and Transfiguration alone. Is that clear, Miss Granger?" she explained sternly.

Hermione nodded. This was going to be a walk in the park. After all, she had already read the wand movements and the theory during the summer break and had practiced casting the spells as soon as she had reached school this term. She was confident that she knew at least eight different defensive strategies and a couple more of the offensive ones. As for casting them, there was nobody better than the smartest witch of the age. Mcgonagall had herself told her so.

Mcgonagall raised her wand like a conductor's baton and waved it in complex arcs, silently transfiguring the lone book on the table beside her into a killer vine, which shot at her, obviously commanded to incapacitate. Hermione waved her wand and intoned the counter spell loudly, performing the complicated wand movement that was specified in the book.

"Verto tergum!"

A ray of silver light shot out of her wand and hit the vine, slowing it for a moment. The smile had just begun forming on Hermione's face when the vine leaped again, incapacitating and binding her tight.

"Verto tergum!" Mcgonagall intoned loudly, for the rest of the class to hear. The vine transfigured back into the book, releasing Hermione back who dropped down on the floor, much to other's chortling. "Miss Granger, while I admire the fact that you took the initiative to learn the spells before they were being taught, I would have like it if you would have instead focused your efforts on learning them properly instead of memorizing spells and wand movements." Looking towards the populous, she asked, "Anyone else?"

Daphne saw her chance and took it.

"Miss Greengrass. Would you like a chance?"

"Yes professor." The black-haired girl strode towards the center, much to Hermione's consternation. She did not notice the curious look of anticipation on Potter's face as she passed him. Teacher and student took to the opposite sides of the room as Mcgonagall begun.

"Transmutare in vas." She intoned softly, causing the book to transfigure into iron chains and leap towards the black-haired girl who smartly dodged out of the way and intoned.

"Mutata in speculo."

The iron chains stopped midway and transformed into small glass pieces, which floated midway as Daphne cast her second spell. "Oppugno!" causing them to fly at increasing speed towards the professor who hastily conjured a metal shield to protect herself.

"Very good, Miss Greengrass. Fifteen points to Slytherin for a proper demonstration of a first-year transfiguration spell in dueling. Notice class, Miss Greengrass did not use anything fancy. Just a simple first year transfiguration spell. Well done."

Daphne nodded her head and walked back, making sure she did not look at Harry who was trying his best not to smirk at her as she walked to her seat. Hermione's face could not do a better imitation of a rather irritated toad, what with the way she was all green with envy. Ron however, had his usual sneer stuck to his face—the very same one that flit into his face whenever an incident dealing with 'Slytherins' happened.

"Mr. Potter, still up to attempting?" Mcgonagall urged. Harry shook his head and walked into the center, much to Hermione's consternation. Standing at one end, he waited for the professor to begin.

"Mr. Potter, I would advise you to hold your wand tight; this is a duel after all." Mcgonagall urged, looking at the casual way his wand was twirling in his hand. Harry observed the sudden smirk flash on Hermione's face, but did not say anything. His posture was deceptively elating; what with the way, he was twirling his wand in his fingers. However, Daphne knew better not to underestimate Potter. She knew very well that no matter how harmless it seemed, one single flick and a shield could be conjured in an instant. Nothing like a good deception, after all.

"This is going to be interesting." She muttered, much to Tracy's surprise.

Mcgonagall waved her wand and the book once again transformed into killer vines, which leapt towards him. Harry focused his magic through his wand and conjured a long blade, using it to slash the vines off, before throwing said blade at his professor who forced it into a wild bear that leapt back at him. Harry transfigured one of the desks into an iron chain and bound the bear, before transfiguring it back into the book.

"That will be enough, Potter. Good work. Take twenty points for Gryffindor." Mcgonagall exclaimed with a proud smile. "Thank you professor." Harry intoned before returning to his seat.

"That was...different," Tracy muttered softly, much to Daphne's smirk. She had to meet Potter and soon.

 **END OF FLASHBACK**

* * *

Harry walked silently along the third floor, his steps slower than usual as he kept on turning corners and walking towards the more uninhabited parts of the great castle. Knowing the great castle as good as the back of his hand, he knew most of the corridors and the shortcuts, much more than what was shown in the Marauder's map. He felt a shadow shove out of the path behind him, as he turned another corner.

 _Someone trying to prey on the predator?_

A cruel smirk floated on his lips as he turned a sharp bend, only to activate the disillusioning powers of the cloak. A dark lord for over a decade, but still the invisibility powers of the cloak were much better than his best disillusionment charm. He stood a step beside the narrow path, waiting for his stalker to arrive. After all, patience was the name of the game.

Daphne had been following Potter right from the Charms class. She knew that he had an annoying habit of vanishing on people right after classes, only to reappear sometime before the next class started, usually from some pillar or some classroom. Despite being highly familiar with the use of the disillusionment charm, she had dismally failed to locate him. The disillusionment charm, like every other charm, came with its own flaws with which a disillusioned person could be located. However, it seemed that conventional rules did not apply to Potter, who seemed to be able, those flaws. Either the boy was exceptionally skilled in the charm, or he was doing something else...

 _Some kind of perfect invisibility spell from his family library perhaps..._

She turned the sharp bend and looked ahead. Just like always, Potter had disappeared. Disappointed, she turned back only to stare into the brightest green eyes she had ever seen as she felt a powerful body bind manifest all around her. She tried to scream but no words came out, revealing some kind of privacy ward under effect.

"Greengrass, you surprise me. Still looking out for trouble?"

Daphne forced a calm expressionless demeanor on her face as she gathered whatever was left of her inner courage and cunning. Somehow, Potter seemed to do something to her, which made her feel vulnerable. The stoic ice-queen, the girl feared by all, had an odd tendency to scream her lungs out and run for the hills whenever in close proximity with him.

"I was... I was looking for you."

Harry's face shifted into an odd evaluating expression. "And I suppose that Slytherins stalk people whom they look out for?"

Daphne ignored the vivid taunt in his question and focused on the issue. "You are...difficult to find. After every class, you just seem to vanish away; though I am not sure if it is a disillusionment charm that you employ."

"I suppose you have a point." Harry answered offhandedly, "what can I do for the Ice-Queen?"

"I...I need your help, Potter."

"Interesting." Potter gave her a look, something akin to the way a ferocious predator looks at a powerful yet potential prey. "Pray tell, what can Harry Potter do for you?"

"I know that you are having some kind of issues with the Department of Mysteries. I know that you are responsible for whatever it is, that has happened to Professor Snape." Daphne felt a bit courageous. "I kept your secret when Malfoy asked me."

"Hmmm. Too right you did." His eyes glinted as he looked at her eyes directly, "Tell me Greengrass, what is going to stop me from simply obliviating the shit out of you?"

Daphne swallowed. Perhaps the blunt interrogation was not that great an idea after all. "You could, but I have already taken precautions."

"And what if, I decide to invade your mind, figure out your precautions and then get you a permanent bed beside our illustrious potions master?"

Daphne gulped. Damn Tracy and damn her ingenious ideas. She knew very well that Potter was deadly. Trying to bargain with him was like trying to bargain with a hungry tiger and stopping it from eating you. She cursed herself for her arrogance. This was a deal with the devil. "I- I did not think that you would do that to me. I kept your secret, and I realized that-"

"That you could hold it over my head." Harry answered with a soft snarl distinct in his voice.

"No- No! I thought, I thought that I could use it to gain your trust, and in return, convince you to-"

"Help you." Harry finished.

"Help me." Daphne iterated, her voice shaking with fear.

He looked at her with an evaluating expression, his passive Legilimency constantly screening her surface thoughts with ease. Fear had a wonderful way of decreasing one's mental defenses making the victim much more vulnerable to passive Legilimency.

 _Maybe I could use this to recruit her on my side._

"What do you need, Greengrass?" He finally asked, his voice now softened a bit. Daphne couldn't help but feel a bit elated. "I have a problem and it is about Malfoy. I was hoping you could help me deal with it."

Harry fixed her with an odd stare, which Daphne construed as one simple question. "Why me of all people?"

"Because you are powerful and you have your own opinion. Besides, Malfoy is always an arse when it comes to you. Then again, I am not asking you to do it free. I am happy to negotiate whatever remuneration you might ask for."

One word flitted through the minds of the witch and the wizard simultaneously.

 _Bait._

"Interesting. Tell me Greengrass, your family is neutral. If the dark lord returns," Harry inwardly smirked as the girl showed no reaction about the fact that Voldemort might be alive, "—would you and your family join his cohorts?"

Daphne pondered with the question for a while. "No. However, I am not willing to fight for Dumbledore's side either. I suppose you are on his side, fighting against the dark lord?"

"Who said anything about fighting him?" Harry asked as Daphne raised her eyebrows. Potter was not going to fight against the dark lord. She hated that their discussion was going about in circles, with Potter evading direct questions effortlessly.

"The House of Greengrass had been forced to sign a treaty with House Malfoy a hundred years ago. In accordance to that agreement, a daughter of my family has to be wed to the Malfoy scion or else the Malfoy family would seize three quarters of my family fortune. Me being the eldest daughter, it is now my responsibility. I am sure you can understand that I have no desire to marry that obnoxious cow anytime soon." Daphne grit her teeth in exasperation.

"Touché!" Harry replied, much to Daphne's consternation.

Harry let out a sigh and put forward his thoughts. "Here is my remuneration. You and your family sign a détente agreement in blood with me. In addition, you bear a vow of silence regarding any secrets that I may decide to share with you. In return, I will help you with your problem with Malfoy. Give or take?"

Daphne weighed the offer. While it was true that she feared that Potter would claim much more, a part of her was still at odds with agreeing to Potter's demands. A détente agreement, while deceptively simple on the outside, could have many implications politically. Sealing the agreement in blood meant that the House of Greengrass would be permanently aligned to the House of Potter for eternity, unless of course some future generations of their families might wish to declare a House enmity and break the contract. However, there were other factors and stipulations to consider too. House Greengrass could maintain its neutrality, its only resistance being that it could never side against House Potter. Then again, there was...

"I will need to speak to my father about it, Potter. I am sure you understand."

Once again, the witch and wizard had one single word in their minds.

 _Catch._

"Of course. You have a day to consider. Same time, tomorrow."

"Where will I find you?"

"You won't. I will." Harry deadpanned.

"Great." Daphne muttered. An hour later, Mcgonagall would receive a missive from the Head of Greengrass family, citing that he needed his eldest daughter off from school for a day due to family business.

* * *

 **The next day... DADA Classroom...**

"Morning class," Moody continued his usual gruff voice as he began his class. Harry as usual was sitting on a side all alone. The class had been for Gryffindors and Slytherins, one of the most famous anomalies in Hogwarts. A dark lord for years and despite all of that, Harry could never figure out why anyone in the right mind would put two antagonistic Houses together in a class, which taught dangerous spells.

He shook himself off from his reveries and focused on Moody. He had to hand it to Crouch Junior; the man was indeed a professional actor. The style, the gait, the way of movement—everything had been perfectly synchronized. Had Harry not know that this time the Alastor Moody in front of him was real, he would have thought that it was Barty Crouch Junior.

 _Then again, I did kill Junior personally. I would know if the bastard were alive._

"Dumbledore has ordered that a special class needs to be arranged this year; something beyond the normal curriculum." Moody whipped his wand, and the letters formed on the board.

 **UNFORGIVABLES**

"Any of you lasses and lads know a thing about them?"

The reaction was fantastic. Just as expected.

Hermione Granger had stood up and ranted out how it was illegal to learn Unforgivables, only to stop midway through her diatribe because Moody had silenced her. When he further informed that the class was optional and that the weak-willed were free to leave, a grudging Hermione Granger forced herself to sit back down, much to the chortling of the Slytherins.

"There are three specific curses termed as Unforgivables. Completely forbidden to cast, irrespective of your social or political position. Casting any of the unforgivable curses on anyone is a direct ticket to Azkaban. Even during the last Wizarding war, us Aurors were not allowed to cast any of them. "

He paused to allow the class to absorb everything he said, using the time to look over at the facial expressions of his students. Most of the faces were filled with astonishment and puzzled curiosity. He cast a quick glance at the Potter boy, only to find him looking straight at him with utmost attention.

"So can any of you name the three curses?"

"My father told me about one. The Imperius curse." Ron Weasley muttered out, his face holding an expression of surprise as if he had been surprised that he had actually answered a question. "

"Correct in one, Weasley. Your father would indeed know about that. Gave the ministry a lot of trouble in the days after the war." Ron looked a bit peaked but smiled and sat down.

Moody took out one of his jars and levitated out a rather large spider. Ron recognized it as one of those large spiders, acromantula they were called, the ones he had faced with Harry in his second year, although this one was quite small comparatively. He cast a quick glance at Harry and found him looking sharp at the spiders.

Moody pointed his wand at the spider, and intoned loudly.

 _"Imperio!"_

The spider suddenly went all relaxed. Then as if it was some puppet of some sort, it began dancing on the desk. Almost laughed at the situation, save Harry. He had more than enough experience to understand what it meant.

"Total control!" intoned Moody loudly, "it is fun isn't it? I wonder how many of you will continue your mirth when I cast it on you."

"You can't do that. It is illegal," squeaked Hermione.

Moody gave the girl a sharp stare. "Miss Granger, please, get out of the class."

Hermione squeaked in shock. "What?"

"I said, please get out. Unless you want to be the first one to experience the Imperio from my wand."

Hermione nodded primly and walked out.

"Now? Any other remaining here who would like to lecture me about the ethics of unforgivable curses? None? Good. Let's continue."

Harry's mind wandered to his past. Especially towards one of his more... personal researches on the Imperius Curse. The dark lord Potter had come up with his own version of the Imperius, one that was much less susceptible to flaws and even lacked the 'cloudy eyes', which was a sure way to track whether a victim had been imperiused or not.

The _Coercitio Imperium_ curse.

The dark lord Potter had kept powerful figures at the ICW under his direct control for over a year before leading the attack that obliterated the entire structure. It was one of the curses, whose use was restricted to members of his own circle. Nobody else knew about the particular curse.

"Now I shall begin to put each and every one of you under the curse. If you don't have any defense at all, you won't face any intrusions and will simply become a mindless puppet for me. If you have even the slightest form of mind defense, then you will face an intrusion into your mind, which will..., efficiently try to convince you to do whatever I order you. This is funny for me and exhausting for you. The key to winning the battle is to irritate me to death by resisting my commands. So who will be my first guinea pig? "

The entire class looked blankly at him. Finally, Seamus Finnegan stood up.

"Good to see some Gryffindor bravery, although bravery is perhaps the nicest synonym for stupidity." Several of the Slytherins laughed.

"Go Seamus!" Dean and Ron cheered him back. Seamus walked out to stand in front of Moody who quite inelegantly whipped his wand and intoned, "Imperio!" Seamus's eyes dazed. This was going to be interesting.

"Jump like a frog." Moody ordered clearly. Instantly, Seamus dropped down, sat on his four limbs, and started to jump all the way across the room. He even managed to make a decent croaking as he jumped. It was hilarious. Moody looked at him with disdain. "This is a perfectly good example of what happens when you do not have any mental defenses. Who's next?" he asked, freeing Seamus from the effects of the curse.

The next thirty minutes were quite funny. Neville had walked up, asked Millicent Bulstrode, and danced a waltz all across the room. Tracy Davis and Lavender Brown both had a great time exercising and jumping over the benches. Daphne had some resistance but on further forcing, even she had started to meow like a kitten.

"Potter, you are next," barked Moody.

Harry stood up, and much to Moody's amusement, the class fell silent. As per as his knowledge, Potter was a kind of enigma. Powerful in his own right, and a recluse. He was also a suspect in whatever had befallen Severus Snape, but knowing that son of a bitch, Moody suspected that the death eater was not completely innocent in the incident.

Harry walked up to the center of the room, right next to Moody, keeping his mind blank. His mind wandered to the altercations with Voldemort in his previous life; he had lost count of the number of times he had been put under that particular curse. Snape had already damaged his mind with his mind-rape sessions in fifth year, making Occlumency impossible for him to learn. However, Harry Potter was clearly nothing if not unconventional. His indomitable will, coupled with the way his magic responded to him, had created something phenomenal. If he could not create proper shields, he came up with the next big thing.

A mindscape, one that had no shields at all. An infinite void of darkness, coupled with an enormous gravity that sucked down any kind of Legilimency foray into a makeshift prison he had created deep within his own magical core. He remembered the number of times his friends had gone insane trying to figure out how he did what he did. His answer- I wanted to do it and it happened.

The most interesting part of his mindscape was the prison. A place where he could simply suck in any kind of Legilimency foray and imprison it for an extended amount of time. Since Legilimency was a form of astral projection into someone's mind, imprisoning the foray meant that the person's consciousness was also sucked into it, away from his or her own body. That was exactly what had happened to Severus Snape.

For the first two weeks, Severus Snape had lived his worst fears and memories repeatedly, the illusion strengthening more and more as Snape's own mental defenses degraded. Being away from his own magical core meant that Snape was stuck in there with a limited amount of energy, one that was dwindling down to almost negligible quantities. Slowly, the proud man had been reduced to a bumbling wreck who was lost inside the illusion. Harry had decided that he would let the bumbling fool out after another week. It would take Snape months to even acquire some level of mental clarity. It was cruel, but nothing that the greasy bat did not deserve. However, that was for later and Moody was speaking.

"Ready Potter? I am going to cast the Imperius on you. Try and resist it."

Harry nodded.

"Imperio."

A calm feeling almost descended into his mind before getting lost into the gravity of his mindscape. Moody felt his spell vanish away somewhere in the depths of Potter's mind.

Odd.

His face shifted into a confused look. "Imperio!" The foray left his wand before reaching the boy, and just as previously. It vanished the moment it entered into the boy's mindscape.

"Everything all right, Professor?" Daphne could not help but ask loudly. Potter was proving himself more and more of an enigma. She could not feel but think that an alliance with Potter was a right thing to do.

Moody on the other hand, seemed confused. Forty years of service as an Auror and he had never faced anything like this. The lad was not even resisting the curse. It was almost as if, the curse was _resisting_ from being drawn into the boy's mind and vanish into nothingness. Finally, he spoke. "I do not know how you did what you did, but it was good, Potter." Turning to the audience, he continued, "The Imperius doesn't work on the boy." Turning back to Harry, "Go back to your seat, Potter."

"Sure, professor." Harry shrugged, before returning to his seat.

* * *

After the class was over, Daphne walked out with Tracy to return towards the dungeons. She had hoped to talk to Potter after the class, but it seemed he was more than skilled in avoiding her clandestine skills. Entering the Slytherin dorms, she and Tracy departed ways. Tracy went towards the girl dorms while Daphne retreated to the Slytherin library, planning to read a bit on counters for compulsion curses.

"That is quite a book you have got." A gentle and familiar voice shocked the hell out of her, as she whirled with an unladylike yelp. Standing just behind her, now facing her icy blue eyes with his emerald green ones, stood the Boy-who-lived, right inside the Slytherin library.

"How—how-" Daphne tried, but her shocked mind got the better of her.

"How did I get in? I assure you I simply walked in." Harry smirked. Daphne's face flitted into desperation. "How did you enter the Slytherin dorms unseen? This library... it is a secret limited to Slytherins only."

Harry wondered if he should tell her that he had himself spent years living in the castle after the battle of Hogwarts; or if he should tell her that Theo Nott had regaled him with stories of the Slytherin dorms during their talks. Shaking off his musings, he looked at her in the eye.

"I am a Parselmouth." He hissed, scaring the crap out of the girl. He smirked. The general populous did not know it, but the reason why Parseltongue was regarded as a dark ability and so scary, was that it was exactly that. _Scary._ The classical tongue of the serpent lords had an inbuilt mechanism, which triggered fear in the minds of those that did not speak it. It was one of the reasons, why Lord Voldemort was so scary.

"I am a Parselmouth." He repeated, this time in English with an amused expression on his face. It was almost funny to see 'The Raven' get so scared by his presence. He stopped the intimidation techniques to allow the fourth—year to get her wits back.

"You enjoy scaring me, don't you?" Daphne grit her teeth. Harry shrugged, "It does make life interesting." Ignoring the intense look of loathing on the girl's face, he reverted to the original point behind all the intimidation. "I suppose you have arrived at an answer."

Daphne nodded blankly and sighed. "I have a couple of conditions though."

"Sure. Name them and I will consider them." Harry replied offhandedly.

 _How is it possible that Harry Potter is a Gryffindor?_

Daphne kept her thoughts to herself, pausing for a while, before continuing. "My father has agreed to a détente by blood just as you propositioned, but I have two clauses. One, you do not interfere in our neutrality or in our businesses. My father does business with both factions with the Wizengamot and it will hamper our dealings if you force us by any way to limit ourselves."

"That is not an issue. I may not have taken my seat yet, but as soon as I will, I will align myself to the Neutral faction."

Daphne paused.

"You—what?" she almost bawled out.

"Easy Greengrass. Don't get so excited!" he mocked, much to her irritation. She ignored his taunt and continued, "The next clause is that you teach me how to better myself in the arts of dueling."

Harry gave her an evaluating look, trying to figure out why she would want to do such. Daphne clarified. "I am no dummy myself; however I believe I can better myself by regularly practicing with a more powerful opponent."

Harry fixed her with a dry stare which conveyed—'why me?'

Daphne stared back with a sultry expression that conveyed the answer back—'why would you ask me such a stupid question?' causing him to erupt into laughter. "Very well, Miss Greengrass., I will try fixing up a schedule. Did you bring the contract as told?"

Daphne unfolded her bad and took out a piece of vellum, on which the contract was engraved in calligraphic ink. My father has given me the authority as his heir to perform the treaty on his behalf.

"So be it." Harry replied. "Tell me more about this contract." Daphne swallowed and continued, "The buyout clause is three hundred thousand galleons and a duel to the death with a fighter of Malfoy's choice. My father can easily provide the money but the contract forbids anyone of or married into the Greengrass family to fight for us. And we being neutral, and Malfoys being who they are, nobody would be willing to stand in our stead."

"Hence I will have to fight. I find it amusing that you think that I will fight to the death for your honor."

"Of course you would. You are a Gryffindor." Daphne retorted back. Seeing his amused expression, she changed track, "though, I admit, you are the most Slytherin-ish Gryffindor I have ever met. Honestly, I have a hard time figuring out how you landed into the lion's den."

Harry let out an amused smile. "That is a story for another day. You do understand that under the oath of silence, you are magically bound to protect my secrets. Don't you?"

Daphne nodded.

"Very well. Let us sign it. I don't suppose you have a blood quill in your bag," he commented offhandedly, reaching out for the vellum.

Daphne raised her eyebrows. "For a person claiming to have spent his childhood with muggles, you are quite _dangerously_ well-informed, Potter." Harry just smirked.

* * *

 **### Well, there you have it. The longest chapter so far. 6300+ words! Sheesh! Anyway, the story has just begun now. I realized a very powerful potential subplot that I had unwittingly created while writing the chapter and things are going to turn out much more interesting in the future. Hopefully my readers will enjoy the chapter and fill the review column with lots of reviews. Also, I suppose I will take this moment in stating that wizarding Chronicles is back to active from its dormant status, in case you have not noticed it yet. As for Serpent Lord story, it will still lie dormant since I am engrossed in some serious research on some arcane material that I am going to amalgamate into the story.**

 **Well that is for now. Oh wait, one more thing. Despite my obvious pride and happiness at the fact that so many readers are enjoying my story, I am finding it deliberately insulting when some 'Guest' decides to grace with his/her presence and pretend as if I am creating the story in accordance to his/her wishes. My story, I work how I like, when I like. Don't like it? Allow me to introduce you to the 'close' button on your screen. Another thing that I have grown to hate is how some 'intellectuals' decide what the story is like just by reading the first couple of chapters. For such geniuses, my advice is... Bub, just don't!**

 **Well, that all for now. Thanks for listening to the rant, and hope this chapter fulfills your expectations. Regards.**


	13. Chapter 13 : Training and Surprises

The inclusion of Daphne Greengrass in Harry Potter's reclusive presence had spread like wildfire. The reaction to this inclusion was both drastic and diversified. The senior Gryffindors had a mix of jealousy and envy on their faces, knowing very well what it meant that the hottest girl in school was now out of their league. Knowing what they did about the elder Greengrass, they could not help but wonder what Potter might have done to achieve what he did. The younger Gryffindors, including the fourth-years, had a mix of dread and envy on their faces. Dread because some feared it as an indication that Potter was going dark, and envy because he had the gorgeous girl with him almost all the time.

The Slytherins too were downright furious and envious of what had happened. For a wands-on girl who cursed first and asked questions later, Daphne Greengrass was the last person at Hogwarts whom they could ever imagine hanging out with a Gryffindor, forget Potter of all people. Malfoy was downright infuriated, so much as to openly insult said girl, after making sure to include some line including 'My father will hear about this', and some more. Daphne had sat the entire noisy session before getting bored and walking away to her dorms, much to Malfoy's consternation. Of course, the fact that Malfoy somehow slipped down the stairs and ended up in the Hospital Wing for a week was just a coincidence. A few of the more 'ambitious' Slytherins, like Theo Nott, Blaise and his elder sister Amanda Zabini had completely supported her, congratulating her for being 'Slytherin' enough to enter into an alliance with someone powerful like Potter. The fact that the Potter family was one of the oldest and richest in Britain just sweetened the deal.

The Hogwarts Rumor Mill had worked overtime and the news had become a national sensation in one single day as the first page of the Daily Prophet demonstrated it the very next morning.

 **POTTER AND GREENGRASS ALLIANCE!**

 **The latest sensational story that has come out into the wild is the newest alliance pact made by the House of Potter and the House of Greengrass. A few days ago when this reporter extracted the news from her potential sources, she had discarded it as mere falsification, but no, my readers, when I personally checked in with the newest entries with the Wizengamot, there was indeed a new alliance made between the Ancient House of Potter and the Noble House of Greengrass. A détente alliance, which effectively means that the two Houses shall not stand against each other. While it is not an alliance of mutual aid and support, but a détente agreement between the leader of the Neutral faction and an Ancient Family could have severe repercussions.**

 **What does this mean about our cherished hero Harry Potter? Is this one of the distinct indications that the Boy-who-lived has been disillusioned with the Light and is embracing the dark? Is this the point, which marks a divergence of a person from being a hero to a wannabe-dark lord? Potter already has a history of being a Parselmouth coupled with a black record for using magic in presence of Muggles. Is this another indication that something is indeed wrong with the Boy-who-lived?**

 **My research took me to Gringotts from where I verified the claims. Harry Potter has indeed taken upon himself the mantle of Headship of his family—this new alliance being the very first of his new policies on taking the mantle. Does this mean that the House of Potter will not be in the Light faction as it has been since the last thirty years?**

 **Albus Dumbledore, the chief Warlock of the Wizengamot had to say—"Being the Magical Guardian of Mister Potter, I was surprised to know that Mr. Potter has taken up the mantle in silence and has moved forward to establishing his own ties and alliances. I personally feel that it is a bit too young for him to take up Headship. Harry needs to enjoy and study, not play in the grounds of adult wizards and witches. I will personally talk to him and implore him to take off the mantle."**

 **At present, Elphias Doge is occupying the position of the Proxy for the seat of Potter, as requested by Albus Dumbledore as Potter's guardian, voting for the Light faction the Wizengamot. What the change of Headship means for the Light faction remains to be seen. The Greengrasses have been a predominantly neutral family with connections to the dark families. Derrick Greengrass, uncle to Daphne Greengrass was convicted of being a Death eater though he had gotten off on the Imperius Defense. While Lord Greengrass was unavailable for comment, we hope to get a one-on-one interview with Harry Potter himself regarding the situation.**

Harry lowered the paper, throwing it over on the table as he had his breakfast silently. Ron as expected had had a huge row with him over the entire issue. For one proclaiming to be Light, Ron always had a lot of bigotry in his mind, especially towards Slytherins. It had led to one of the more one-sided yelling inside Gryffindor tower, leading to one of the more odd moments. Ron had shouted and yelled his arse off, while Harry just sat and sipped pumpkin juice. It was only when Ron had gotten infuriated and cast the slug-eating curse at him that things had taken an interesting turn.

 **FLASHBACK**

"Don't you ignore me, Potter!"

Harry looked up from his pumpkin juice at the reddened face of Ronald Weasley, who seemed to be downright infuriated by the casual way in which Harry was being indifferent to him. Realizing that he had the entire couch to himself, he relaxed himself into the softness of the couch. Ron got all red hot and whipped his wand out, yelling out-

"Sluggulus eructo!"

The faint pink curse shot out of his wand towards Harry who just parried it away with a flick of his wand at the last moment. Standing up, he looked at him in the eye and remarked coldly. "That was a freebie, Weasley. Do not think that just because you were my first friend, you can control what I do or what I want. The next time you try attack me, make sure it is fatal."

He strode towards him, the entire room silent and staring at him walk. He reached right in front of Ron, so close that they were only a few inches away from each other. "Or you will only wish it was." He whispered, "you wretched excuse of a wizard!" hissing the last part in Parseltongue, making the rest of them shiver. Striding back and looking at everyone else, he remarked. "I am my own person. I do what I like. I may be a Gryffindor but the sorting Hat chose Slytherin for me." The statement brought a shocked look from everyone, as he smirked. "I am tired of this bigotry in this House as well as in all of Hogwarts. Yes, I am a Parselmouth and yes, I was initially sorted to Slytherin. If that and my newest policies make me a dark wizard, then _so be it_." He hissed out the last words in Parseltongue, initiating another round of shivering among the stupefied audience. "I love this school and I love learning magic. I am not going to attack anyone, but in case anyone attacks or insults me, I will come down with overwhelming strength upon you." Whirling back, he walked out of the common room.

 _At least they are going to leave me alone for now. I was having a bad time anyway, dealing with the future corpses._

* * *

"What are you going to teach me?" Daphne asked. The two were sitting in the Room of Requirement, as Harry had introduced it to her. Unlike what he believed, the Room was not exactly as much a secret as he thought. His face had been a right mess when Daphne had laughed and told him that she had been visiting the Room for her private practice since second year.

"Well, there is a start to everything, isn't it?" Harry had said to her sheepishly.

He asked for a clear room for dueling practice. Standing on one end of the room, he looked back at her. "Show me what you have got, Miss Ice Queen!" he smirked.

Daphne scowled at him and whipped her hand, striking down hard and fast, just like her father had instructed her. The cutting and severing hexes rained down towards him, and he simply weaved through them, with the occasional parrying one spell into another, using Daphne's own spells to cause collisions among them.

"Neat, for a _second_ year." Harry taunted, and Daphne increased the level of her spell fire. She ran towards him, firing as she ran. "Confringo! Reducto! Attero! Percutio!" The exploding hexes and bombarding spells struck down hard towards Harry, disappearing him into a mist of smoke. Daphne paused for a moment, waiting for a counterattack but nothing came. Confident that she had him down, she walked towards the smoke, wand tightly in hand.

"You looking for something?"

Daphne whirled around to face his green eyes before the crimson sheen of a simple stunner shook off her consciousness.

"What—what happened?" Daphne asked, waking up from the floor.

"You fell to my stunner. Too bad, you know, for someone who enjoys exploding hexes." Harry replied, standing in front of her, his hand extended. Daphne took it and stood up. "What went wrong?"

"You."

"What do you mean?"

Harry just smirked and walked back to his original position. "Your quick attacks gave you away."

Daphne scowled. "I have been the winner for two years in the dueling competitions because of my quick attacks," she defended herself. "Perhaps, but one size doesn't fit all. You were oh so eager to jump up and finish the game that you barely noticed that I simply disillusioned myself and was behind you."

"But-"

"You like to be fast, but your speed is what got you down, _Princess_." Harry taunted her. Daphne raised her wand towards him, snarling. "Don't call me that," she warned.

"Or what?"

"Or I will-" she whipped her wand up only to realize that she was holding a snake. With a miniature shriek, she threw her wand towards the floor, only to be bound by an _Incarcerous_ from Harry's wand.

"Get-let me go!" she gritted, trying to shake the ropes off her.

"You know, for a _Slytherin_ , you are quite vulnerable to taunts. Princess." Harry taunted, walking towards her. His finger running down her soft cheek, her soft angelic face now marred by a scowl.

"Dissolve yourself back into Occlumency, Greengrass. I expect a certain level of competence before I _waste_ my time on you again." He intoned loudly, before exiting the room, leaving her bound.

"Wait, help me get off these-" Daphne began, but found herself alone in the room.

 _Damn you, Potter._

* * *

 **Dumbledore's office, Hogwarts.**

"What do you think of young Harry, Alastor?"

Moody sipped his whiskey from his hipflask, as was usual. "The boy is gifted, in ways beyond ordinary. I have yet to see his dueling prowess." He spoke off gruffly.

"I am sure you will find something to be surprised," Dumbledore spoke out, "the boy is one of the most resourceful people I have ever met."

"If you say so."

"I assume you have done your analysis of the Hogwarts wards? The Triwizard is just at the door, and I am sure that Tom will try to do something during the course of the Tournament, considering Karkaroff is-"

"Ah, that slime ball is coming-," Moody grunted, but Dumbledore bet him to it. "Yes, Igor is the High master of Durmstrang, and thus deserves respect, Alastor. Please don't go poking him about the old days."

"I will try." Moody replied, following a mental swearing of profanities. Albus smirked at his friend's antics but his face shifted to seriousness. "I am not sure about the changes in the young Potter. Something tells me that he is involved in the incidents that have been happening ever since May, ut I have yet to make any inference out of it."

"Have you tried with Veritaserum? It always settles matters I have seen."

"Be practical Alastor. He is just a boy. I can't possibly interrogate him with Veritaserum."

"You could always obliviate him." Alastor suggested.

"Considering his strange mental facilities, I would rather hope not. No Alastor, we have to do things the old way. Veritaserum is not an option." Dumbledore defended, much to Moody's chagrin.

"The dueling tournament will set things right, I suppose. You can have your idea of the boy's skills by that." Moody suggested, taking another sip from his hipflask.

"I certainly hope so. The boy is bent on avoiding me, especially after the news report of his taking up Headship." Dumbledore confessed. Alastor looked at him with an odd expression, as if evaluating his friend.

"Are you sure you have not turned soft in your old age, Albus?"

Dumbledore chortled. "I certainly hope not. But I have failed the boy, and considering what is about to come in his future, I am not sure if I should cause him any further hardship."

Alastor did not reply.

* * *

Back in the Slytherin dorms, Tracy was sitting on Daphne's bed as the other girl busied herself in the book on counter curses. Ever the hyperactive girl, Tracy was bumbling with excitement to know about her friend's first session with Potter. To her disappointment, Daphne was keeping excessively silent for her taste.

"Are you ever going to tell me what happened?"

Daphne did not reply.

"He didn't- you know, take advantage of you or something did he?" Tracy asked, a shade of concern and anger clouding her face. Daphne nodded her head in denial.

"Then what the hell happened?"

"He humiliated me, all right?" Daphne snapped her voice louder than usual. I did one of my best moves, trying to beat him down and he put me down like it was child's play." She sat up straight, her mind too distracted to study in peace.

"What happened, Daph?"

"He- he is leagues ahead of me. I nearly cast over thirty spells and curses at him and he used just two. One being a disillusionment on himself, and the other being a simple stunner."

"So he caught you by surprise? That happens, Daph. You of all people should know that."

"I know." Daphne confessed, "It was the other thing he did that scares me."

"What?"

"He kept on taunting me and I lost my control, and whipped my wand out." Daphne turned to her friend with a blank hysteria in her eyes. "My wand suddenly turned into a snake. I threw it down in fear, and just as I did, it turned back into my wand. I tried reaching it but he bound me in ropes and left me there."

"What?"

"Yes. He told me to gain some _competence_ -" Daphne gnashed her teeth in anger, "—before he would deign to _waste_ his time on me again."

Tracy's expression shifted into something... inscrutable. "He is powerful. That kind of illusion, and the casual way he demonstrated it... he is something else." Her face shifted into a sly grin. "I need to get him in a closet, and fast. Who knows what other skills Potter's been hiding?"

Daphne looked at her friend blankly.

"You are incorrigible."

"Oh I love you too, Daph."

* * *

Caractacus Flint was woke up from his nap, the naked bodies of the two muggle-women on his bed. At least the muggles were good for one single thing, what with the way their minds obeyed even the weakest Imperius curse. Many of Flint's friends had died in the Quidditch world cup, something that had left him shaken when he had come to know about it. Someone had brutally killed his old mates. Considering how they were all wearing their Death eater robes, Flint believed that whoever it was held a vendetta against Death eaters. Not that he was in any trouble, after all the wards—

"Caractacus Flint, still so very casual about the Imperius, aren't you?"

Flint whirled to the side of his bed at the source of the sound. There, just beside his bed, sat a hooded figure wearing dark grey robes. He had a golden chain around his neck and his wand lay on the bed. The man let out a strange sense of confidence, one that could very easily be thought of as immaturity, but Flint knew better.

"Who are you?"

"Peverell."

"Never heard the name. I owe you money or something?"

"No." The figure spoke. A very odd voice, almost as he were hissing, reminiscent of the dark lord. "I am here because you owe me blood. Lots of blood."

Flint's face manifested a shadow of fear in them. Whoever this was, he was not a friend and had somehow entered his property without tripping the wards. He subtly tried to reach for his wand beside the pillow.

The stranger seemed to sense Flint's thoughts, and laughed. "Oh get your wand, Flint. I am not going to kill you as you killed mundanes. I am going to let you die just as a wizard should. Die fighting, after all, your half-blood bastard of a Master did nothing else."

"You-" Flint roared in anger, his wand whipped out in front of him, as he yelled, "Avada Kedavra!"

The stranger seemed to dissolve into mist as the curse phased through him, solidifying back into corporeal form just as the curse crossed him off. "As I was saying, I am here for your blood."

"Who—who are you?"

"I am wizarding Britain's reckoning, Caractacus." The stranger smiled. A cruel smile. His wand lay on the bed as he raised his left hand. A purple ball of energy seemed to manifest at the center of his palm.

"My friends, they will come for you." Flint tried, his eyes stuck to the purple energy still forming. The stranger smiled. "Of course, everyone comes to Death at the end." The purple energy flickered for a moment before it shot off like a ray into Flint's forehead, making a neat little hole as it did. The look of shock stayed on his face as he fell headfirst, straight on the pillow, deep into the eternal sleep of death.

* * *

Amelia Bones sat along with the Minister of Magic Cornelius fudge in his office. Unlike what was common belief, the Head of DMLE did not need to inform the Minister of every single dealings of the Ministry, making a couple of visits enough for a month. Right now, she along with Rufus Scrimgeour (the Head Auror) and Kingsley Shacklebolt (Head Hit-wizard) were debriefing the Minister about the recent killings that had occurred during the Quidditch World Cup. Amelia hoped that she would be able to convince the Minister to increase the DMLE Budget, but the Minister was being more than mildly difficult in this case.

"Amelia, this is just some random terrorist. We do not even know if he is British on the first place. The World Cup was a mess, and had a humongous number of people attending it. It could very well be someone from Bulgaria or France or any other nation. I am unable to understand how an increase in the DMLE budget could help the nature of things."

Amelia's eyes twitched. "Minister, this man Peverell, he killed ten British purebloods mercilessly and yet here you are telling me that-"

"AMELIA!" Fudge thundered, "Don't tell me how to do my job. You have what you need. Manage it in the limit. I cannot help it. I am getting late." Fudge was just about to get up, when he sat down again and looked at her, "I think Sirius Black is behind the killings. They were all upstanding citizens and Black has shown himself to be a deranged murderer"

Amelia's eyes twitched at the monstrous level of stupidity the Minister was displaying. "About black, Minister, I have checked with the entries and surprisingly, there are no mentions of Black having a trial. I want to open the case once again."

"Oh don't be foolish, Amelia. Black is an escaped convict and You-know-who's right hand man. He betrayed the Potters for merlin's sake. Now go and do something constructive. Lucius has arranged an important... meeting for me, and I need to attend." He got up from his chair, turned back to pick his cloak when the door to the office knocked loudly.

"Come in." Fudge intoned.

A junior Auror entered the room, standing with his head lowered. "I am sorry to disturb you Minister but," he turned to Madam Bones, "there has been a new killing reported, ma'am. Caractacus Flint has been found murdered in his own bed.

The reaction was spontaneous. Fudge stood aghast before yelling out an unholy 'WHAT!' while Amelia looked shocked at the new turn of events. She had believed that the killings were limited to the World Cup event, but now... there was a killer on the loose and he was going for ex-death eaters. She could not decide whether she should be horrified or exhilarated at the news. She looked at the idiot of the Minister who stood gaping while trying to process the information. Caractacus Flint was after all, very close to the Minister as well as Lucius Malfoy's brother in law. Understanding dawning on her, she suddenly stood up and nudged the other two to follow without question.

She had barely walked towards the door as she counted-

 _Three._

 _Two._

 _One..._

"AMELIA!"

Turning halfway, she cast a quick glance at the boisterous fool she had to serve. "Yes, Minister?"

"Get me a proposition on whatever increment you require on the DMLE budget. I will see what I can do."

"Sure Minister, but is it necessary? After all, you just-"

"I know, I know!" Fudge spoke out rashly, "but I thought ove—over it. I think your idea has some point. You may go."

"Of course, Minister."

* * *

Five weeks into the term, Severus Snape slowly stirred. He moved his head slightly; the ache generated from it clouded his mind as he lay suffering in silence. Three hours later, Poppy discovered the sudden change in his situation and called for the Headmaster who immediately arrived along with Moody and Flitwick.

"How is he now, Poppy?" Albus asked, his sharp blue eyes trying to figure out something. Poppy nodded sadly and explained. "He has gained consciousness Albus, but is unable to recognize anyone or anything. He can barely speak in fact. The only think he has done is shiver in fright from time to time and yell out strange incomprehensible gibberish. I believe we should get him admitted to Saint Mungo's."

Albus sighed. "You may be correct, Poppy. Contact Saint Mungo's immediately. I will see if I can get someone to settle in as Potions master for the meanwhile. After all, it is over a month that the students did not have any potions classes."

"Whom are you going to get at this prime moment, Albus?" Mcgonagall asked briskly.

"An old friend."

* * *

Daphne had not met with Potter ever since their first session. It had been two weeks now and now that they weren't having their Potions classes due to Snape's condition; she did not have any chances to meet him either. Not that she was complaining. Potter's insinuations and her humiliation at his hands was still a sensitive affair for her. Yes, they met once a week during the Transfiguration classes, and twice in defense classes, but now that even Moody had settled down to teach them proper curses and counter-curses; it was more than difficult to initiate a conversation with the reclusive boy. Rumors were abound on how there was some kind of disagreement between the two of them though none of the students had been courageous enough to confirm them by asking either of them personally. Potter, it seemed was completely unfazed by all of it. If anything, it had become increasingly difficult to locate him. Then again, another peculiar incident had happened a week ago.

 **FLASHBACK**

Daphne had been practicing in an unused classroom. As handy as the Room of Requirement was, it heavily reminded her of her session with Potter. She had taken a break after continuously hurling spells for thirty minutes and had reached out for a couch to elate her tired body. Suddenly there was a sound of rigorous pacing outside. Her Slytherin senses on high alert, she immediately vanished the couch away before hiding in one of cupboards in the room.

Someone stepped into the room. Daphne could hear the footsteps as the person walked towards one of the shadier corners of the classroom. . Daphne held her breath, trying to figure out the identity of the individual. Knowing the residents of the castle, there were very few people who ever entered into the unchartered rooms of the castle, Potter being one of them.

A shocked Daphne Greengrass watched with curiosity as the intruder revealed his face. It was Harry Potter, looking here and there for a while before taking out a small pouch from inside his robes. Putting his hand inside, he dragged out a gray hooded robe and a golden chain with some kind of locket in it. Daphne watched curiously, as Potter adorned the robes and pulled on the hood. Putting the golden chain on his neck, he turned away from Daphne.

Then the strangest of things happened. A sudden tinge of bluish sheen appeared around Potter and he faded away into nothingness. Daphne watched wide-eyed for the next fifteen minutes, without the slightest sound.

Absolutely nothing.

Her curiosity overcame her fear and she strode out of the cupboard, towards the place where Potter had stood some moments ago. She made it certain to cast multiple revealing charms.

Potter had vanished. He was no longer in the room.

Daphne tried a Point-Me charm. Nothing.

Potter was no longer in the castle.

 _Damn!_

Daphne was completely out of her wits now. She might not put faith on history books, but one thing was certain. There were very powerful wards in and around the castle that prevent Apparation or portkey travel. Yet, Potter had discovered some way to break through those restrictions.

 _Damn!_

Disappointed, she turned back and walked out of the Room, not caring where she went, her mind inundated with thoughts of Potter. She never noticed that she had walked straight on someone, resulting in a head-on collision with said person as she fell on top of him.

"Err Greengrass, I know I'm good looking and all and you like the position we're in, but I'd really appreciate it if you got off me."

Daphne opened her eyes to find staring into the very familiar emerald eyes, she knew so well. "Potter—but—you" she tried, but words failed to express the confusion inside her.

"Are you well, Greengrass?" Potter asked in a softer tone.

"Harry mate, we are getting late." It was one of the Weasley twins, one of the very few people Potter actually spent time. From their appearances, it appeared they had come from Hogsmeade.

"Were you in Hogsmeade?" she asked Weasley twin number one. Fred looked at her and grinned. "Of course, we were looking for potential spots to set up a business. Young Harry is going to invest in our little project." He looked positively delighted at the prospect. Potter grinned. "Yeah, we were looking for suitable spots since the last couple of hours."

Daphne raised her eyebrows. "You were in Hogsmeade since a couple of hours?"

George answered her question. "Yeah. By the way, Harry, we need to go. Filch must be around." Potter looked at him and grinned back. Turning towards her, he spoke again. "So Greengrass, still upset over the first session?"

Daphne mumbled a 'no'.

"Well then, what do you say to another session tomorrow, after dinner?" Not waiting for an answer, he walked away, leaving a perplexed Daphne Greengrass behind.

 **END OF FLASHBACK**

* * *

Daphne shook herself off from her musings as she approached the seventh floor. She turned a sharp bend and entered onto the main corridor. The door to the Room of Requirement was visible from far, meaning Potter had presumably just entered. She opened the visible door and entered the room.

It was a battlefield. Nearly fifteen dummies stood surrounding Potter. The dummies began moving, and firing spells at him non-stop. Blasting curses, piercing and cutting hexes, bludgeoners and bone spells alike. He weaved through them, avoiding the most powerful curses just at the last possible moment. His hand, and by extension, his wand moved automatically, as if it had developed an independent sentience of their own. Colors and bright lights consistently hurled out and radiated out of them. One moment, there would be a glow of silver, the other moment, it would vanish and several javelins and knives would fly all over the place. One moment, a large golden dome would be present, shielding him from the spells splashing against it. Another moment, there would be sounds of shields shattering and nasty looking purple spells, hitting against one or more dummies, blasting them off. Daphne was mesmerized. It was like a dance. A dance with Death. The spells he was using and fighting against, they looked and felt deadly, and Daphne was sure that most of them were at least border-line dark, if at all.

Her voice lost to time, Daphne just stood wordless and speechless, her eyes filled with awe and fear. On the one hand, she was absolutely shocked at the casual way her classmate and tutor was playing with deadly magicks, while on the other, a part of her was getting highly turned on by the dazzling display of sheer brilliance and power. She knew she was good, even better than most in the school. In Slytherin, there were hardly a number of students that could fight to a standstill with her and still, she knew that she would lose, hands-down, if he would be fighting against her. Sure, she had fought duels in the tournaments before, but the humbling realization hit her. They were indeed, _duels._ This, was a battle. No, a massacre.

After what seemed like eternity, she saw him slow down and move from offense to defense, when a single stray spell hit him in the leg, shattering his knee. He held back the scream, letting out a barely audible whimper though Daphne heard it all right. The force of the spell misbalanced him and he fell down with an audible thud.

"POTTER!" she screamed, before running in towards him.

"Greengrass, hey! Hang on, I will be all right in a moment." Potter let out, biting his lips and trying to ignore the pain. he tried to sit up and did so after three futile attempts. "My wand please?"

Daphne picked up his wand, feeling an odd repulsion towards it. Ignoring the propensity to throw it away, she extended it to Potter who waved it over his smashed knee and uttered, "Ossis Dispersimus."

"Potter, are you out of your bloody mind?"

He stared at her as if she had grown two heads. Daphne continued her tirade. "you just vanished the bones of your knee. You should go to Madam Pomfrey, not treat such things yourself." She admonished.

"It's all right Greengrass, I do this all the time." He reached out into his moleskin pouch and dragged out his miniaturized trunk. There in one of the extended compartments, stood a number of vials of Skele gro. Picking up one of them, he frowned before gulping down the entire contents. "Never tastes any better!" he commented, before sending the trunk back into his pouch.

"Thanks. I am afraid we cant have a duel today owing to my condition." he smirked, pointing to his bone-less knee. Daphne looked at him and taunted, "It is almost as if you did that on purpose, Potter."

"Touché Greengrass." Harry returned.

"So what am I going to learn today?" she asked, vanishing the frown off her face. Potter thought for a moment and then replied. "What would you say about a lesson in improving your magical control? It is a necessary requirement for those who want to continue with a Masters in Transfiguration or Animagus."

The Ice Queen grinned widely.

* * *

 **### So that was it, for this chapter I mean. As always, reviews please.**


	14. Chapter 14: Feelings and Tournaments

**October 29, 1994.**

The second month into the term had passed fairly quickly, both for Harry as well as for the rest of Hogwarts students. The core classes, that is Transfiguration, Charms and DADA had been slightly altered to incorporate some standard techniques employed in dueling, with the trigger-happy Moody grinning from ear to ear. Mcgonagall had continued demonstrating beginner-level battle transfiguration to the students while Charms Master Flitwick had introduced to everyone some of the more standard charms that were employed in battle. Being an international dueling champion himself, Flitwick had even altered his class schedules into an all-house dueling demonstration class in which he showed the students the nuances and techniques that duelers employ, hinting heavily on the importance of Charms in the subject. Moody was, well Moody. He had completely gone off and begun to engage the students in mock battles using third-year and fourth-year curses and shields; often stunning down students when they failed to uphold his mantra of 'constant vigilance'.

The changes that even affected Harry. Knowing very well that such extra events had not occurred in his previous timeline, he was worried in the beginning, fearing the worst to happen. Later on, he convinced himself that since the worst had happened anyway, whatever could happen would be better. If anything, Harry was sure that at least, he was not magically restrained and fettered down, driven by the nose by Dumbledore and his blasted 'second-chances' philosophy. This time, he was already cutting down Voldemort's supporters and had already destroyed majority of the bastard's horcruxes.

 _At least, Voldemort will not be a priority this time, other changes be damned._

Then there was one more thing he was patiently waiting for. Fleur Delacour. His love, his girlfriend, his partner in another life.

The day had finally come.

* * *

Today the students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang were supposed to come and the Triwizard Tournament was officially going to begin. Potter had cancelled his private sessions with Daphne halfway, much to the girl's consternation. Daphne had never seen him so careless on any other day. She had even struck two spells on him, something that was completely odd. Knowing what she knew about him, Potter was skilled enough to defeat her soundly with his eyes closed, should he give it a shot. Then again, Daphne had been toiling hard every single day. She would come to the sessions hoping to demonstrate her prowess exceptionally and then be reduced to tears when Potter broke through her spell-chains and mocked her on the face. Blood, sweat, and tears—that was all she received at the hands of her teacher, opponent and perhaps a friend; and she would not have it any other way.

She had grown from the duelist who used quick attacks to win her matches into someone who was truly formidable in the art of battle. Potter... he had taught her how to truly mold magic and use it attack when necessary and defend when necessary. She now used her magic clinically, almost as if she measured every ounce of it. Potter had been direct about it.

"I notice you expend a lot of power in your curses and that too, forcing too much too soon." Potter had explained while scrutinizing her performance in offensive spell casting. Daphne did not want to let him have a big head about it, but deep within her heart, she knew that Potter was a much better teacher than anyone she had ever seen in her life. She had met many experienced duelists and Aurors, but none of them ever understood or explained the stuff with such clarity as him. It was almost as if he was an experienced man, one forged in the heat of battle for decades, not a fourth-year student. How Potter knew so much and in such detail, it was completely unfathomable. However, there was no point trying to figure that out, her Slytherin mind had told. Potter was here and he was teaching her, that was all that mattered in the end, and she did exactly that.

"While trying to force your opponent is a remarkably good strategy in most situations, it has its own flaws. A sharp and skilled opponent could very easily tire you out, as I demonstrated on our very first session." Harry smirked, causing her to blush in embarrassment. "You need to use magic clinically- the minimum at all times. That will save your power and help you in extended duels."

Then he would go out and demonstrate what he meant himself. At times, he would even commit mistakes to demonstrate the flaws of a particular battling technique, and all of a sudden, forge a new technique and add it to the existing ones. It was simply phenomenal. Daphne had grown to anticipating her sessions with Potter more than anything. Even her classes now assumed second priority to her; such was the intoxicating nature of his teaching skill.

She had engaged herself in mock-battles with her tutor, as she had mentally began to revere him as. Tracy had no doubt chortled at her Hufflepuff nature, but Daphne did not mind it. Tracy had even taken the opportunity to ingratiate herself to Potter and had even gone on a practice date with the boy, initiating a kind of heart-pain in her, though she convinced herself that it was because of the aches of their duel. Tracy had later informed her with great regret and frustration, how Potter seemed to dance around her blatant invitations and behave like a perfectly dumb Hufflepuff. Daphne had chortled at that.

Today however, things were different. Today she had managed to strike her tutor twice. Two direct spells. It was almost a miracle since it was usually some tiny part of a spell that would perchance, evade his defenses and hit him, causing little to no injury. Potter, ever the enigma, had this frustrating policy of changing his battle techniques every single time. To defend invited overwhelming attack. To attack invited impenetrable defense. It was frustrating.

"Are you...all right, Harry?" Potter had finally given her permission to call him by his name. Daphne had danced with joy later in her dorms at that, not that she would ever accept it.

"Yeah Greengrass, I am okay. Just a bit... engrossed in thinking other things." There, he had still not used her name, despite her insisting it. He would go out of his way to call her 'Greengrass', much to her irritation. Sometimes she thought that he did it to irritate her.

"We should stop the session for the day." Harry replied. That vanished the smile of her face. Daphne sent her wand back into her holster and walked towards him, a concern in her eyes.

"Are you sure you are all right?"

Harry looked up at her, an amused expression on his face. He had grown to like Raven, or 'Greengrass' as he was so used to calling her. Had anyone told him in the past that he would have grown close to Raven and teach her everything he knew, he would have laughed on the face, as hilarious as it was. Now though... things were different. Spending time with the girl, it felt nice. Teaching her, it reminded him of all the sessions he would have with his inner circle. It reminded him that he would have to reach out to his circle members and make friends with them.

A systematic process, he told himself.

"Greengrass, what happened to that fight you wanted me to do for you?"

Daphne frowned. It was moments like these, which would bring her back into the harsh reality of the world. She still had that betrothal hanging like a sword on her head. Potter was teaching her, as was her clause on his agreement with her. It brought everything down to much more... technical level, something that felt enormously empty.

"My father has sent a missive to Lucius Malfoy, and he has replied. As per as the initial contract, if the buyout clause is activated, then Malfoy has to submit the details of the duel within sixty days of the date of buyout. Also," she looked sharply at him, "unless you actually win, killing the other opponent, the buyout clause does not hold. If you lose the fight, I will have to marry that oaf no matter what."

Harry looked at her, his mind racing back to his past life. Draco had been married to Astoria, Daphne's younger sister. His knowledge of the Pureblood laws told him that it might have happened only one way.

Daphne had left her family and her family name, her financial assets and trust vaults. Perhaps that was why she had resorted to become a mercenary and use her skills to earn her bread. After all, a duelist with no family background was frowned upon. His mind wandered about the possibilities of events that had turned this girl into the cold-blooded mercenary he had fought on multiple occasions. His mind went back to their last battle.

The one in which he had sliced her head off.

"Harry?"

Harry shook himself out of his reveries. "Yeah?"

"Did you even hear a thing I was saying?"

"You will have to repeat all of that." he replied offhandedly. Daphne frowned. "I was saying that within sixty days, that is to say, two weeks from now, he will have to present to us a date, time and place to be agreed upon. On the decided date, both families will reveal their duelists at the time of the duel. If you win, I am saved."

"If I lose?" Harry began, only to find the girl rolling her eyes. Daphne continued. "If you lose, I will have to marry that oaf, or else Malfoy will confiscate the majority of my familial assets."

"What about your younger sister? Can't she-?"

"No. Not unless I am dead or am permanently disabled or cast out of the family." Daphne ended. Harry raised his eyebrows, finding his suspicions to be correct.

Daphne Greengrass had chosen her freedom over family name. She had been cast out of the family, either willingly or by force. She had chosen a path, which offered her freedom over being a trophy wife for Draco Malfoy. She had used her dueling skills the only way she could.

As a mercenary.

Though Draco had indeed come to his senses in his later life, inciting a form of reliable friendship between himself and the dark lord Potter, Harry knew very well that it was partly because of the fact that his own father had chosen to sacrifice his life because Voldemort wanted him to. Draco, who had basically lived up, trying to be his father, had been shocked out of his mind-seeing how his own father was practically a slave, ready to kill his own blood just because his Master demanded it. Harry mused over the fact. It had taken an extreme situation to bring the change in Draco, and it was not something he could guarantee. Though Draco and Astoria looked quite happy to be with each other, he could not just send Daphne into the path he had seen her go the previous time.

 _Besides, I have changed things way too much to rely on my own future._

He faced her icy blue orbs. "Let me know when you get any updates."

Daphne nodded briskly.

* * *

Fleur sat in the Beauxbatons' carriage as it flew towards the premier magical institution of Magical Britain—Hogwarts. Her mind flicked through the intensive dueling and magical training she had done to hone her technique, hoping that she would be selected in the Triwizard Tournament. It was the only chance. She had to demonstrate her prowess before passing school and Merlin help those who stood in her path. A part of her mind also went back to Harry Potter. She would have someone to talk to without having that person drooling because of her allure.

Then, there was another one. That mystery man, her savior. Peverell. Something about him felt familiar, though Fleur had no idea what it was. Always one to follow her senses and instinct, she had felt drawn to Hogwarts. A gut feeling told her that she would find her answers somewhere while staying a year in the great castle.

"Fleur?" She turned towards her friend Caroline, who had been busy chatting with Aimee and Claire, her friends and perhaps the only two people apart from Caroline with whom Fleur was friendly. Caroline pointed out excitedly at the window, and Fleur looked out. A misty appearance of the medieval castle was now visible.

 _Time for the Triwizard._

* * *

 **TRIWIZARD TOURNAMENT**

 **The delegations from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will be arriving at 4 o'clock on Friday, October 29. Lessons will end half an hour early. Students will return their bags and books to their dormitories and assemble in front of the castle to greet our guests before the Welcoming Feast.**

After lunch, the students had converged towards the grounds as they waited in anticipation for the guests to arrive. Dumbledore called out from the back row where he stood with the other teachers —"Aha! Unless I am very much mistaken, the delegation from Beauxbatons approaches!"

"Where?," said many students eagerly, all looking in different directions.

" _There_!" yelled a sixth year, pointing over the forest. Something large, much larger than a broomstick — or, indeed, a hundred broomsticks — was hurtling across the deep blue sky toward the castle, growing larger all the time. "It's a dragon!" shrieked one of the first years, losing her head completely. "Don't be stupid . . . it's a flying house!" said another and indeed, it was. As the gigantic structure drew closer, now almost near the windows of the Astronomy Tower, they saw a gigantic, powder blue, horse-drawn carriage, the size of a large house, soaring toward them, pulled through the air by a dozen winged horses, all palominos, and each the size of an elephant. A second later, the carriage landed too, bouncing upon its vast wheels, while the golden horses tossed their enormous heads and rolled large, fiery red eyes.

Just like last time. Harry mused.

"Those are Abraxan horses!" A senior looking Ravenclaw intelligently pointed out. A set of silvery stairs drew out from the bottom of the carriage and outstepped a tall-giant woman—the headmistress of Beauxbatons.

Dumbledore started to clap; the students, following his lead, broke into applause too, many of them standing on tiptoe, the better to look at this woman. Her face relaxed into a gracious smile and she walked forward toward Dumbledore, extending a glittering hand. Dumbledore, though tall himself, had barely to bend to kiss it.

"My dear Madame Maxime," he said. "Welcome to Hogwarts."

"Dumbly-Dorr," said Madame Maxime in a deep voice. "I 'ope I find you well?"

"In excellent form, I thank you," said Dumbledore.

"My pupils," said Madame Maxime, waving one of her enormous hands carelessly behind her. About two dozen boys and girls, all, by the look of them, in their late teens, had emerged from the carriage and were now standing behind Madame Maxime. They were shivering, which was unsurprising, given that their robes seemed to be made of fine silk, and none of them were wearing cloaks. A few had wrapped scarves and shawls around their heads. Harry looked into the incoming crowd, attempting to see Fleur among them but failed dismally. It seemed that Fleur was somewhere in the end of the group.

After informing Dumbledore about the correct food and care for her horses, she climbed up the stairs into the castle. The throngs of students entered behind her, all wearing the same dresses and walking gracefully into the castle. Leaving his previous wish of finding Fleur, he decided to wait for the Durmstrang contingent to reach Hogwarts.

"Looking out for someone special, Potter?" Daphne whispered from beside him.

"Nothing...like that." Harry explained with an uncharacteristic stammering in his voice, which was well noticed by the girl.

"So you say."

Harry did not reply.

* * *

Just like the previous time, The Durmstrang contingent appeared on their humongous skeletal ship, rising in the center of the Black lake. The students disembarked and the man who stood before the others was a rather rugged-looking man, with long black and silver hair. He had an almost haunted look to his face.

Karkaroff! Harry hissed vehemently. The man whom everyone had believed dead in his previous timeline. The man who had joined hands with Inferno Corporation, leading to the widespread destruction of the Wizarding World.

 _Not this time._

"Dumbledore!" Karkaroff called out heartily, in a rather unctuous voice, as he walked up the slope. "How are you, my dear fellow, how are you?"

"Blooming, thank you, Professor Karkaroff," Dumbledore replied. Behind Karkaroff stood Victor Krum, waiting to walk into the castle, away from the cold air outside. He stood silently, a frown visible on his unmarred face. Krum was perhaps the bluntest person Harry had ever met. He planned to introduce himself to the person, later on.

He could hear Ronald Weasley shrieking and whispering like a girl, shouting madly about making Krum give him an autograph, letting him sleep in his dorm for a change, and what not. Steering clear of the conversation, he focused on the happenings.

"Now, that our guests have arrived, students please return to your House tables." Dumbledore voiced his thoughts with a sound-amplifying charm.

The throngs of students entered into the great Hall. Harry went and sat on the Gryffindor table as Daphne went over to the Slytherin table. The Durmstrang students followed Karkaroff who led them towards the Slytherin Table while the Beauxbatons moved over the Ravenclaw table. Karkaroff and Madam Maxime went over to the staff table and sat on their respective chairs. Almost immediately, there was some kind of commotion over the Ravenclaw table as boys from all Houses started to walk towards the Ravenclaw table to introduce themselves to one single golden-haired beauty, whose angelic face seemed to be unmarred despite the frown on her face.

"That's not a normal girl!" Seamus whispered. Mutterings of 'Veela' among the boys, some scoffing and curses from the girls continued the commotion until Dumbledore stood up, sending everything else to silence.

"Welcome everyone to Hogwarts. There is a time for words but this is not it. So without any further delay let the feast begin." Just as the words left his lips, the entire table bloomed with exquisite dishes, the specialty being that French and Bulgarian cuisines and dishes were also included in the table.

* * *

Daphne observed the other girl from the Slytherin table. Fleur Delacour, Veela and winner of the under-19 dueling tournament held in France that very year. Daphne had won the under-17 championship and had watched the Veela girl win the grand finale of the under-19 showdown. The girl was quite a prodigy with a wand. For a moment, Daphne wondered what their mutual levels were, after all this time training with Harry.

Fleur Delacour stood up from her table, and walked towards the adjacent table—the Gryffindor one and walked a few steps ahead. Daphne observed her keenly, almost like a hawk. Delacour was walking towards Potter, Harry she corrected herself- and for some strange reason, she felt a bit threatened.

Harry was busy talking with Neville, about magical plants found in the Mediterranean regions. The Longbottom scion, no matter how under confident and magically hindered, was a genuine prodigy in Herbology. Neville Longbottom had grown up to become a Professor of Herbology, not to mention his devastating prowess with a wand under the dark lord Potter's tutelage, something that Harry was trying to recreate.

"Excusez moi, could I have the bouillabaisse?"

Harry whirled around to see the so-very-familiar blue eyes, golden curly hair and the angelic face. For a moment, he thought he was back at Potter manor, gazing into those eyes...

"Harry Potter?"

Her surprised tone brought him back to reality. He was not in Potter manor. He was back in fourth-year, trying to change the path of history. Fleur was not his lover.

"Fleur? I mean, Miss Delacour?"

Fleur smiled softly. "Just Fleur is fine. I hoped meeting you again."

"All right, just Fleur." Harry answered, inciting a pearly laughter from the girl. Her voice was just as melodious as always. Fleur continued, "So can I have the bouillabaisse?"

"Yeah sure, take it." He handed the French dish to her, who waved her golden curls and turned back. "See you soon, yes?"

"Sure."

* * *

Daphne watched their interaction from far. The fact that the Veela had got up to talk to Harry Potter no less was more than interesting to most, and hence the resulting silence had allowed almost everyone to hear their conversation. In addition, another set of whisperings had begun in the Great Hall- the fact that Harry Potter did not drool or react to her allure.

"The mystery of Harry Potter deepens..." Tracy replied smugly from her beside. Daphne did not even turn towards Tracy, her blue eyes transfixed at the green-eyed boy. Potter was immune to the allure, that was a given. How, that was a question to be pondered over later. Right now, the most important thing was the way he reacted to the Veela girl. Unlike his usual charismatic personality, Potter had been strangely uncomfortable for a moment; almost as if he was forcing himself to do something, he did not want.

 _Strange!_

Then again, the fact that Delacour had taken an interest in Potter made her feel a bit angry, though she could not discern the reason. She forced herself to look back on her plate and continue to eat, the food suddenly a bit bland for her tastes.

"Seems like you have competition, Daph!" Tracy teased, much to her consternation. Her eyes twitching, she turned towards her friend. "What do you mean?"

Tracy chortled at her and continued, "Oh you are so easy. Don't tell me that you aren't feeling jealous of the Veela over there!" For some reason, Daphne's eyes did not dart back towards that direction; instead, she frowned and replied, "Doesn't matter. Potter is a just a friend and my tutor in Defense."

"Just you wait Greengrass, just you wait." Tracy sniggered, giving her the 'I know something you don't' look, much to the other girl's eyes twitching.

* * *

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, ghosts and — most particularly — guests," said Dumbledore, beaming around at the foreign students. "I have great pleasure in welcoming you all to Hogwarts. I hope and trust that your stay here will be both comfortable and enjoyable." He allowed the applause to go down, and then continued. "The Triwizard Tournament is about to start. But first, let me introduce, for those who do not know them, Mr. Bartemius Crouch, Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation" — there was a smattering of polite applause — "and Mr. Ludo Bagman, Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports."

Bartemius Crouch stood up silently, his square-cut moustache quivering, giving him an odd look as he jerked his head before sitting back down again. Crouch had been in the media storm lately, considering how his 'dead' son's body had been found in the World Cup grounds, freshly injured and killed. Considering that Junior was already dead, Crouch had been able to use his resources and contacts to stay out of prison, (he had to pay a hefty fine of fifty thousand galleons though) and considering how the Triwizard was his brainchild and just at the door, he was allowed to keep his position till the end of the tournament.

"Mr. Bagman and Mr. Crouch have worked tirelessly over the last few months on the arrangements for the Triwizard Tournament, and they will be joining myself, Professor Karkaroff, and Madame Maxime on the panel that will judge the champions' efforts. And now-"

There was a sudden ripple in the air and in a flash of fireworks; there stood a wooden box that was studded with jewels on the staff table.

"In order to prevent any kind of partiality in selection of the Champions, we have decided that the Champions will be selected by an unbiased selector-" his wand whipped towards the wooden casket-"the Goblet of Fire." The casket broke up from the middle to reveal a large, golden chalice. It was strangely normal to look at, except that the top of the chalice held bright, bluish flames, which danced on the brim of the cup.

"I should remind you all that only students of age seventeen or higher are eligible for the tournament-" his words being surpassed by groans and boo-hoo from the crowd-"for safety reasons. I am going to put an age line around the artifact which will prevent you all from trying to illegitimately trying to enter."

Ignoring the chorus of wails from the tables, he continued, "You have time till 4pm, on Halloween to enter your name into the Goblet. The Goblet shall be placed here in the Great Hall until then. Please state your name, your school in a parchment and drop it into the Goblet. If you are of age, the chalice will accept your entry. If not..." Dumbledore's moustache quivered, "the results will be interesting, for sure."

"Yes, it only took one insane death eater to get through your defenses!" Harry muttered to himself.

 _Then again, the cloak can mask my magic from his age-line, and I can enter myself... Nah!_

Dumbledore continued, "However, aside from the tournament, there will be another set of events in which everyone else can participate, including the Triwizard champions, if they want." Harry turned to the Headmaster to listen properly. This was something that was completely new to him.

"Hogwarts is also going to have a dueling event and a Brainiac challenge, a theoretical quiz for our other students and guests. Between the three schools, I expect we are all going to have a lot of fun." A chorus of clapping and cheering continued as people began whispering excitedly about the new events. Harry cast a quick look at Daphne, who smiled back at him hearing about the dueling event. She nodded subtly at his glances before he looked away.

* * *

 **The next day...**

"So Potter, you sure you aren't going to try and enter for the tournament?"

Harry glanced towards Daphne, and seeing her teasing smile, smirked back. "I could, but I would rather stay out of it, and go for the dueling event instead."

"And there goes my chance of winning down the drain." Daphne muttered with a fake sigh, much to his grinning. "Why Greengrass, still can't stand against me?"

"You very well know that I don't. Honestly, you are of my age and experts have trained me all these years. I still cannot figure out how you know all that you know." She sighed, much to his amusement. Harry did not reply and simply watched the Triwizard Goblet burning with the ethereal blue flames rising out of it.

"I was not joking, Greengrass, I could have beaten the protections of the Goblet and entered myself. I didn't. I have some more important things at hand."

For some reason, Daphne believed him. Harry Potter was indeed an enigma. She knew that with his knowledge and skills, he could very well breeze through his NEWTS any day. Despite that, he maintained a competent performance in class. Enough to stay at the top five but not showy enough to gain any undue expression. It was almost as if he was born to be in...

"Potter? I had a question, and would like an honest answer if you could."

Harry glanced at her, with a calculating expression on his face. Daphne had been true to her word. Ever since their deal, she had strictly kept all his secrets to herself. He knew that because he had a habit of scanning her surface memories randomly (not that he would ever admit it) and not only that, but the girl never once asked him to reveal any of his private secrets to her. Ever. Unlike a bucktooth bookworm and a redheaded betrayer, Daphne understood and appreciated the concept of privacy.

He nodded, gesturing her to continue.

"How is it that you are a Parselmouth? I mean, the Potters are not related to Slytherin. Your mother was a muggleborn, so how do you have Slytherin's gift? I mean- I know You-know-who was a parselmouth and all, but-" she stopped midway, trying to figure out the best possible way to explain the conundrum.

Harry considered the situation. His Slytherin heritage, while a complete secret so far, would not remain so once he took his Wizengamot seat the coming year. Besides, Daphne had taken an oath of silence... Very subtly, he raised his right hand and put it on her palm. Daphne raised her eyebrows at the uncharacteristic gesture and her eyed darted to his. He nodded towards his palm and she glanced down, only to be shocked her wits out to see the signet ring form on a finger. The green capstone and the basilisk insignia being very distinct and familiar; after all, she wore the same seal herself every single day.

"You—you are the-" she began, only to be cut off by him midway.

"Yes."

She looked down at the signet ring, only to see it vanishing away, as he took his palm off her. Daphne was surprised to find that she liked the feeling of his hand on her.

"You are full of surprises, aren't you?" she smirked.

"I try."

* * *

 **The evening feast, Halloween.**

The Great Hall was teeming with people. Students from the three schools in their complete school-robe regalia sat on the four crowded House tables. The staff table was already filled up by the teachers, and had to magically expanded to include the guests. On the edges, a cluster of seats had been arranged for the reporters as well as ministry personnel who had arrived for the occasion. Tonight, there were no houses, only schools. Hogwarts, Beauxbatons and Durmstrang.

"And now, it is time for the Goblet to choose the Champions for the Triwizard Tournament!"

The great Hall of Hogwarts was brimming with anticipation and excited whispers. Some excited about their own possibility of selection, others busy gossiping about the potential champions of the respective schools. Ron Weasley in particular, could be seen rooting loudly for Angelina for Hogwarts and of course, Krum for Durmstrang. He would have rooted for the Veela from Beauxbatons, but she was way-too-friendly with Potter for his tastes. Draco Malfoy was bragging from the Slytherin table, telling to whoever would listen how his father had mentioned that he could have been a champion of not for the age clause.

"The Champion for Durmstrang is..." Dumbledore raised his hand to catch a piece of parchment that had been hurled out of the burning blue flames of the Goblet, which had momentarily turned red.

"Victor Krum!"

"Oh come on, that was completely obvious." Ron yelled loudly. He never had the epiphany that he was acting worse than the females crushing on the celebrity. Ignoring the awkward looks that his friends were giving him, Ron rooted and cheered for Krum.

"The Champion for Beauxbatons is... Fleur Delacour!"

Caroline and the other girls cheered loudly. Harry could feel a smile grace his face at Fleur's selection. Fleur Delacour got over the momentary surprise, and stood up regally before coming down to move towards the antechamber.

"And finally, the Hogwarts' Champion. The Champion for Hogwarts is..." Dumbledore snatched the oncoming parchment from the air.

"Cedric Diggory."

Cedric Diggory, the pretty-boy of Hufflepuff, stood up gracefully. His friends and the rest of the Hufflepuff house cheering madly for him. Hufflepuff was normally treated like the House of the commoners, and hence, they hardly got any recognition. To see one of them becoming the Champion of Hogwarts, they were nigh exhilarated. He strode up front and joined the rest of the Champions in the antechamber. Indeed, the applause for Cedric went on so long that it was some time before Dumbledore could make himself heard again.

"Excellent!" Dumbledore called happily, as at last the tumult died down. "Well, we now have our three champions. I am sure I can count upon all of you, including the remaining students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, to give your champions every ounce of support you can-"

"You know, for someone as competitive as you, you are awfully comfortable staying away from the limelight." Daphne commented pointedly from his side. Harry just guffawed and answered, "Come on Greengrass. I am just happy that this time there will be a normal year in which I can-"

He never completed his statement as he witnessed a jet of crimson flames emit out another paper to Dumbledore's hand, who caught it almost automatically.

"Harry Potter."

 _Fuck!_

* * *

 **### That is for this chapter guys. I will take this moment to answer a couple of questions put forward by my reviewers. In case I forget to address a question, please bring it up to me.**

 **## Did Harry reveal his gray robes/ gold locket to Daphne intentionally? No. I got a review saying that it is a little uncharacteristic of an OP Harry to commit something so pedestrian. The answer is- Hubris. HP Universe demonstrates the fact multiple times that the most strongest wizards often fall to simple things. Dumbledore died simply because he put on a little ring. Voldemort died simply because of one simple mistake. In 1981, the dark lord fell to a one-year-old baby in a crib. I guess what I want to say is, no matter how powerful a character is, they are not perfect, and neither is Harry. Dark lord he might be, but he is also reckless, careless and takes stupid decisions impulsively at times. While he is a OP character, I needed him to be such for my storyline. I think his imperfections make him much more real than say, an OP character who is infallible.**

 **## A number of reviewers stated how they did not like an OP harry. My question is, why did you not complain when Voldemort was an OP Character in canon? If dark lord Voldemort can be OP, then why not Harry? Especially considering he beat Voldemort at age 14 in a battle of wills. If the same character becomes a dark lord, surely he will be OP. Right Bub?**

 **## Yes, the repulsion Daphne felt from Harry's wand is due to the blood core.**

 **## As for the future-past timeline, I will include snaps of it in due time.**

 **## The most important question... Pairing. I will let you guys go insane trying to figure it out. A suggestion if you will? Just drop it and enjoy the story as it comes.**

 **## Will Cedric die? Umm... Potential spoiler. Next question.**

 **## The wand topic. Please read the end segment of Chapter five properly. Yes Harry doesn't need to use wands. But is it really cunning to display his wandless skills out to everyone? Think 'slytherin'.**

 **## Disjointed story? And you understood that from the first chapter alone? Amazing man! amazing! (For my other reviewers, I have a request. I know that my storyline and writing style is a bit unconventional at times, but I would request you to bear with me till the end. perhaps all your questions would simply get answered if you would just hold up till the end. )**

 **##** **If Harry seen all that Daphne knew then how did he not know that she Told Tracey everything? Simple. he saw her surface memories and thought that those were all. Just because Harry decided that he knew it all, doesn't mean that it really was all. after all, Daphne is a budding Occlumens too, right? And as I have stated, my Harry is not perfect.**

 **## Over complications in the plot? To be honest bro, I was tired of reading straight-forward plots of the same old HP story. I wanted something different, else why write at all? No offence.**

 **## Why doesn't Harry kill Granger and Weasley? "It is a systematic process..."**

 **## Eldritch! Got it bro!**

 **#### That's for now. I hope I didn't miss anything. If I did, please forgive my shortcomings and do let me know. I will surely answer it, if possible. And almost a thousand followers in 3 weeks. Damn flattering man! Love you all.**


	15. Chapter 15 : Dreams

_"You know, for someone as competitive as you, you are awfully comfortable staying away from the limelight." Daphne commented pointedly from his side. Harry just guffawed and answered, "Come on Greengrass. I am just happy that this time there will be a normal year in which I can-"_

 _He never completed his statement as he witnessed a jet of crimson flames emit out another paper to Dumbledore's hand, who caught it almost automatically._

 _"Harry Potter."_

 _Fuck!_

* * *

Harry stared blankly at the goblet of fire before Daphne shook him physically, bringing him back to his senses. "Language!" she hissed, making him realize that he had sworn profanely in public, very loudly too. The entire hall stood dumb and silent, half of them still processing what had just happened, while the other half, staring at him with bitter expressions.

 _Not again..._

His eyes darted towards the Gryffindor table. Almost everyone except Neville looked at him with disdain. Ron Weasley was outright glaring at him, with Granger casting disapproving glances at him now and then. Angelina was outright angry, disappointed that a junior had stolen the limelight away from her. The Hufflepuffs were silent too, with some of them shooting angry looks at him. Half of the Slytherin table was silent, almost in contemplation; even Tracy Davis sat gaping at the unexpected incident.

"HARRY?" Dumbledore called out once again. "Please join the rest in the antechamber."

Harry stood up, his face devoid of all expressions. He walked through the throngs of the students who stared at him. He reached the end of the corridor and entered the antechamber. Fleur, Cedric and Krum were standing there, perhaps engaged in small talk.

 _How could this have happened? I personally killed Crouch Junior. Moody is not an imposter. Then...how?_

The bizarre situation made no heads or tails at all. Then again, it was Halloween. The 'let's fuck with Harry Potter's life' day. His mind went blank, as he walked silently, trying to figure out what might have happened this time.

 _Crouch Junior is dead. Moody was not captured. Voldemort had Peter Pettigrew and Junior with him on the third task. No one else knew about it. Right?_

"Harry?" Fleur asked curiously. "Do they want us back in the great Hall?"

No reply.

"Harry?" She tried again. "Is something wrong?"

"Extraordinary!" came the rather modulated voice of Ludo Bagman from the entrance of the antechamber. "Absolutely extraordinary! Gentlemen...lady," he added, approaching the fireside and addressing the other three. "May I introduce — incredible though it may seem — the _fourth_ Triwizard champion?"

Viktor Krum straightened up. His surly face darkened as he surveyed Harry. Cedric looked nonplussed. He looked from Bagman to Harry, back to Bagman as though sure he must have misheard what Bagman had said. Fleur, however, tossed her hair, smiling, and said, "Oh, very funny joke, Mister Bagman."

"Joke?" Bagman repeated, bewildered. "No, no, not at all! Harry's name just came out of the Goblet of Fire!"

Krum's thick eyebrows contracted slightly. Cedric was still looking politely bewildered. Fleur frowned. "That is not possible Mr. Bagman! He is too young!" Harry glanced at Fleur for a moment but Fleur avoided his eyes, as she continued, "Besides, this tournament is for adults!"

Then it began. The other professors entered the antechamber as the voices rose, with Dumbledore asking him repeatedly if he did enter his name in the Goblet. That had resulted in another heated conversation between Karkaroff and Moody, further fueled by the addition of Crouch's derogatory remarks and of course, Bagman's habit of putting his foot in his mouth. In moments, the group of administrators were quarreling around like a bunch of teenagers.

"ENOUGH!"

Everyone turned towards the source of the disturbance. A very angry Harry Potter looked at them, his dark green aura flaring dangerously as he looked at them in a cold and calculated manner. Then, his bright eyes turned to face one single person, as he spoke in a deep and menacing voice.

"I am going to ask this once. Karkaroff, did you enter my name into the Goblet?"

Silence.

Igor Karkaroff widened his eyes, before the realization hit him. Anger subduing his senses, he bawled out furiously. "You filthy bastard, this is the way you talk to your superiors? Dumbledore, is this what you teach in your-"

"Did you or did you not?" Harry's cold voice intervened his furious diatribe, followed by his quick drawing of his wand that was now placed pin pointed at him. A small ball of purple energy could be seen floating at the tip, flaring angrily. The intent to kill flooded the chamber, making everyone suck his or her breaths.

"Harry! My boy!" Dumbledore tried, but Harry beat him to it. "Do not intervene, Dumbledore. Last chance Death eater, did you or did you not?"

Karkaroff was about to chastise him furiously, but something about the boy made him feel small, very small, almost insignificant compared to his power. "No. I did not."

Harry turned to Dumbledore. "Professor, do not take this otherwise. Did you enter my name into the Goblet?" For some reason, Dumbledore did not chastise him at all. "No Harry, I did not."

"Very well."

I assume you did not enter your name in the Goblet?" Dumbledore confirmed, in return of which, Harry shook his head in denial. "We will find out who is behind this." Dumbledore promised.

"I have no wish to participate in this tomfoolery of yours." Harry stated loudly.

Cedric and Krum stood silent. For some reason, Fleur had an annoyed expression on her face. Before Harry could wonder what it was, Crouch raged at him. "How dare you insult the Ministry like that, boy? I will have your hide for that!"

"Oh, just like you put your own boy under the Imperius?" Harry taunted with a cruel smirk on his face. Crouch paled for a moment before stuttering, as Harry continued, "You let my Godfather Sirius Black rot in Azkaban for thirteen years without a trial. Yet, you stole your death-eater son out of Azkaban, not to mention put him under Imperius for years. Shame! Crouch, real shame!"

Ignoring the stuttering of a red-faced Bartemius Crouch, Dumbledore walked up to him. "How did you know all of that, Harry?"

"I read Headmasters. Sometimes it is newspapers, sometimes letters." Dumbledore did not comment after that.

Fleur looked inscrutably at Harry. For the better part of the year, she had toiled night and day for a chance to be selected as Triwizard Champion. She had toiled for years, practicing and honing her skills for a chance like this. Now that she had, there was one more participant, one whom she regarded a good acquaintance, who was now stating that the Triwizard was some kind of tomfoolery?

A thought floated into her mind.

 _He is Harry Potter after all. He has been famous before he knew how to walk. What will he know about striving for glory? And here I was thinking that there is someone who could..._

 _Understand me like an equal._

Fleur's face shifted from her frown into a mask of haughty indifference. She was Fleur Delacour, and she was here to _win_ the Triwizard, no matter what some _little boy_ thought about it.

 _There is no one like me._

Tossing her hair arrogantly, she skipped off from the antechamber; leaving a perplexed Harry Potter behind.

* * *

"Potter."

Harry looked up at the doorway. He had been casting powerful spells at the dummies for forty minutes straight, without stop. Even the Room was slowly getting heated, trying to absorb all that power he was randomly pouring all over the place. Daphne slowly strode towards him, until she had finally reached him.

"What did they say?"

"Nothing as always. Half of them have trouble believing that I am innocent, anyway. The students keep staring at me as if I am some kind of serial killer."

 _I won't even be able to deny it if they did._

Daphne just stared at him, her expression soft and slightly concerned. Harry looked up oddly at her. "You are not going to ask if I did it?"

Daphne shrugged. "If you did, you wouldn't have denied it. You are too much of a Gryffindor for that!" she smirked. Harry looked at her with amusement. How much had changed! A month ago, he had no troubles scaring the crap out of her, and now here she was, bartering insults and taunts like an equal. Harry liked it, enjoyed it even. Despite Fleur's _odd_ reaction, he was happy to have Greengrass in his life this time.

"Is it? Want to play with this Gryffindor for some time?" He grinned, raising his wand. Daphne grinned back, "I thought you would never ask, Lord Slytherin."

* * *

After an hour of ferocious dueling with Greengrass, Harry had descended down to the Chamber of Secrets for some contemplating on the recent events. Ever since he had come to school for the fourth-year, he had usually lived and slept in the Chamber of Secrets most of the time. Not that he had any problems sleeping in the Gryffindor dorms, but somehow the Chamber felt more private to his mind. The fact that he had lived nearly four years of his life in the Chamber, studying and honing his technique mattered. He was vividly familiar with the Chamber, its secret passages, its library and of course, the hidden Vault. Old Salazar Slytherin had hidden a majority of his assets right here in the Chamber, along with a copy of his entire family library. The Chamber also consisted of a large dungeon, which Harry used for dueling practice, and of course, the main hall was quite spacious to live. A conjured bed with a few necessities, and one could safely live there for years. He would know that, after all he had lived there for years.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, he called for his dedicated House-elf, who arrived with a rather audible pop. Being Lord Slytherin, the wards were tuned to him, and thus, granted his elf safe passage without any issues.

"What does Master Harry Potter wants?"

"Bring me a bottle of our finest firewhiskey, Dobby." The excited elf quickly popped away and returned with a rather large bottle of Odgen's Finest. Swallowing a couple of gulps, he banged the bottle on the table, the unbreakable charm on the bottle preventing it from smashing, as he palmed his face, contemplating the events.

 _What went wrong? Why did Fleur become so haughty suddenly? She was all-good till the feast. What changed after that?_

It was true that he had not tried to force any interaction with her. He did not want to be taken as a stalker. Besides, even in his original timeline, she was quite haughty until the end of the first task. Could it be that the same events would work again?

What did I do wrong?

A whisper floated into his ears, sounding eerily like Hermione Granger...

 _Bad things happen to wizards who mess with time, Harry..._

Time... he had messed with Time; despite how much Theo had tried to convince him out of it.

 **FLASHBACK**

"Shut it Harry, this is madness! You cannot just go ahead with it."

"Do you have a better idea? Look at where we stand, this is the precipice." Harry snarled, the cut across his right cheek glistening with the blood trickling down from his forehead. Theo looked away, unable to face his friend. A few years ago, he would have laughed at the idea of being a brother in all but blood to Harry Potter. Now though...

"Even if this... rendezvous of yours should succeed... you know what is at stake. The dark Lord-"

"Theo!" Harry snapped almost automatically.

"Yes, Voldemort! Sheesh! Voldy will return. You of all people should know how dangerous a bet it is. It took us everything to defeat the wanker."

"That bastard has taken more than that, Theo. I very well know what I am doing. However, this world... it is at an end. Our back has touched the wall. They have pushed us one too many times."

"And you are trying to convince me to deal with the devil, only in hopes of pushing back!" Theo snapped. "And I don't bloody well believe it, but I am almost letting you convince me. Bloody contagious Gryffindorish mentality." He muttered something incoherent, but Harry could not make heads or tails out of that. With a sigh, he looked up at the emerald-green eyes of his brother in all but blood, and asked.

"What's the plan?"

Harry grinned from ear to ear.

* * *

"So let me get this straight. You want to try out Gabby's ridiculous theory and kill yourself in hope that the ritual will take your spirit all the way back into the past in 1991. There you would fuse with your younger self, and then finish off Voldy for once and for all, not to mention killing all the bastards at the same time. Very nice plan, just one question."

Theo paused for a breath.

"How the FUCK do you know if the ritual will actually work? Damn it Potter, you had a horcrux in your scar back then. What if that complicates matters? What if this time travel raises newer problems? What if-"

"All right Theo, you win. Plan cancelled. Tell me, do you have any idea how we can get the wizarding world and all our friends back from the dead? Shit, most of our inner circle is dead. Only me and you, no one else. The Inferno has won. We lost. Face it." Harry sneered, the bitter expression of helplessness marring his still handsome face.

Theo stopped silent. "But Potter, what if you die and all of it goes down for vain?"

"If we do not take this road, we will not live anyway. The Inferno will find us soon and we will both die; this I can guarantee you."

"So what does this plan of yours entail? Have you figured out the details of your travel?"

"Not mine, Theo. Ours. We will travel together. You, and me brothers watching each other's back. Just like now." Harry countered as Theo watched him agape. "We return to our bodies. We prepare right from then. We get our friends back. We save Astoria, Susan and..." his eyes watered, "—and Fleur. We defeat the dark wanker and everything will be all right."

Theo looked at him strangely for a moment before asking him something that was disturbing him for a while. "But Harry, what if it turns out to be worse than what it is? What if, we manage to just screw it thrice over in hopes of saving it?"

"We won't know unless we tried. Come on, Nott. Don't be a spoilsport now." Harry almost whined, almost at the point of desperation.

"Fine." Theo commented after a moment. "Let's give the bastards hell."

* * *

 **Two days later...**

"The runes are ready, everything looks fine. Enough magical energy to transport two souls. I will cast the spell first, and then cast the killing curse on me. If all goes right, the runes should glow green. If not, it will glow blue." Harry explained.

"Choosing your own color even in Death, how modest!" Theo mocked at his chagrin. "You sure you have accounted for everything?" Harry raised an eyebrow, and remarked in a falsely cold voice, "You do know that dark lord Potter doesn't do well with witty comments."

"Keep your dark lord act for your enemies, Potter. Spare me." Theo mocked, much to Harry's chagrin. "Now is everything ready?"

"Yes." Harry mock-sighed. "All we need is-"

A mammoth wave. Heat. Light. Blinding Light. The thundering noise nearly deafened him.

"Harry!"

"Harry! Wake up, damn it!"

"HARRY!"

Harry opened his eyes. Theo was trying to wake him up. "Wake up."

"Wha-"

"No time Potter. Inferno has attacked. We are surrounded. I cannot hold them for long. Get those runes ready." His words seemed to bring Harry back to alert.

"Right!" he stood up and ran towards the runes, uttering obscure incantations, reading the runic schema ready for the ritual.

 _Just a bit more_ \- he thought, as he focused his energies down into the runic circle. The runes were glowing and nearly ready.

 _Just one more... one minute._

"How long?" Theo yelled, his shield beginning to buckle up as he put his entire strength behind them.

"Almost done. Just one minute." Harry yelled back. Theo seemed to calculate something. "Harry?"

"Yes?"

"Give them hell."

"Wha-" The words remained inside his chest as he saw Theo do the unbelievable. Theodore Nott dropped his shields as a magical projectile bomb flew towards him. He somehow held it from falling on them and apparated away, carrying the projectile bomb with him. Harry watched with absolute shock as Theodore Nott apparated right into the center of the reinforcements of Inferno Corporation, and waved his wand towards the heavens.

"COLLOPORTUS TRIMENDIUM!"

The triple-locking charm. One of the most powerful locking charms that functioned as a perfect shield against energy detonations. His charm covered the entire Inferno contingent as the spell took effect, sealing the entire contingent along with himself under it. Their eyes locked once before the projectile bomb detonated.

BOOM!

A wave of light expanded and radiated outward, trying to break out of the spell but it was a testament to Theo's spellcasting that it still held, enough to completely decimate the entire contingent inside the spell lock. Harry watched aghast as his last friend and brother sacrificed himself for him. His insides burned with hate. With anger. With vengeance.

The runes glowed and emitted a gray mist.

 _It is ready._

He stood in the centre of the circle, the runes activating as he did, and held his faithful wand at his temple. He had enough self-loathing to do it. The curse just shot out almost on its own. Green light inundated his world and he knew no more.

 **END OF FLASHBACK**

* * *

Tears flushed out of his eyes as he reminisced the death of his brother in all but blood. Theo, he had been the last of many. Gabrielle, Neville, Justin, Draco, Susan... so many had sacrificed their lives, just because of that blasted Granger and Karkaroff. Not to mention Weasley, who had betrayed him at his worst.

 _I will kill them all. I will make them suffer their worst nightmare. I will reduce them to the vermin that they are. I will make them beg me for death. Then...then I will give them my permission to die._

It hurt. It hurt a lot, hurt because he knew deep in his heart. He knew the truth. He had betrayed them all. Theo had sacrificed his life for him, in hopes that he would set everything right. However, Harry had not been completely honest with his brother.

He had wanted to come back for his dream. His dream of saving Fleur. Getting her back. A thought, which sounded eerily like Dumbledore's voice, resounded inside his mind.

 _It does not do well to dwell on dreams and forget to live, Harry._

He had come so far because he was chasing a dream, only to realize that perhaps in doing so, he had made a mess out of the entire affair.

 _No. Things are not too bad. I can still save her. I can still protect her. I need to get my friends back. I need to get my brother back. I need to-_

He took in another gulp of firewhiskey.

 _This time, I will not put my own dream before others. Others have sacrificed themselves for me. It is time I give them their due worth._

He looked at his palms. The age lines of his hand were missing. A flicking thought appeared in his mind. He had been given a second chance. He had been granted more powers. He now had a better chance to end it for once and for all.

 _I will not fail you, my brother._

* * *

 **Slytherin dorms...**

"Did Potter tell you how he did it, Daph?"

Daphne whirled around at her friend in annoyance. "He didn't put his name in.," she snapped. Tracy raised her eyebrows at her friends' annoyance and continued, "If you say so. It is somewhat hard to believe, though. After all, this is the Triwizard we are talking about."

Daphne scoffed. "If Harry told me that he didn't do it, then he didn't do it. End of argument." She closed her eyes, not willing to take the argument any further. With a softened voice, she continued. "Nobody believes him, and the odd thing is- his reaction is astounding. It is almost as if he _expected_ it to happen."

"Potter is a well of mysteries." Tracy scoffed. Daphne turned on her and retorted, "You are just saying that because he rejected your advancements and blatant flirting." Tracy scrunched her face in annoyance and continued, "Don't remind me. It is almost as if he was purposely trying to misdirect me."

Daphne chortled in laughter. It felt good. "What do you think of Delacour?"

"The Veela? You know her?" Tracy inquired. Daphne nodded. "She was the champion this year in the Under-19 finals."

Tracy frowned. "She is a Veela, and she seemed interested in Potter. Seemed a lot haughty. What do you know about her?"

"Deadly with a wand when I saw her then. Now though, I am sure I could give a good show against her." Daphne returned.

"Potter's training?"

Daphne nodded. Tracy grinned and sat close to her. "You like him, don't you?"

Daphne's eyes widened momentarily as she realized the statement. There was no use hiding it from Tracy. She would only get worse. Very subtly, she nodded, as Tracy let out an excited shriek and hugged her.

"Did you tell him?"

"What? No. Are you insane?" Daphne retorted, her cheeks reddened a bit. Tracy grinned infectiously at her, 'oh, you are whipped, Daph! Who knew! Who knew! The Ice Queen has fallen for Harry Potter! This is Gold."

Daphne blushed for an instant as she tried to glare at her friend. A sudden thought flitted through her mind, vanishing the smile off her face.

"What?" Tracy inquired, a shade of concern on her face. Daphne stood up and walked towards the window, the one that overlooked the Black lake. "The contract. Harry has to duel to the death for my honor. I am not sure what I am supposed to feel about it anymore."

"He will win."

"You don't know that." Daphne retorted half-heartedly. Tracy walked up to her, and replied. "He will win. You have said it yourself. Many times."

Daphne did not reply.

* * *

 **Riddle manor, Little Hangleton.**

The dark lord sat on his throne in the large empty room. Still in his homunculus form, he had returned from Bulgaria to meet Gregorovitch in hopes of finding the wand of destiny... only that it was an exercise in futility. It was a misfortune that Weasley did not know anything about the Deathstick. As unfortunate as it was, Weasley had his uses. Too many uses, in fact.

"What news do you bring my servant?"

"My lord, Harry Potter is now in the tournament."

"And the girl?"

"Just as you said. Potter demonstrates a lot of interest in her."

The dark lord speculated for a while. Things were indeed going according to plan. His information was indeed correct. Potter had demonstrated an interest in the girl, and the girl would be a good way in bringing Potter to his knees.

"The changes in the ritual... did you get the details ready for me?"

"Yes, my Lord."

"Hmm. Lord Voldemort will rise again, and this time, there will be no mistakes. Lord Voldemort will be the one who has the last laugh this time."

"Indeed, my lord."

"Pay attention on Potter. Tell me if anything unnatural happens. Keep track of the boy's skills. I will not underestimate the boy anymore." Voldemort explained, gesturing his servant to leave. The servant left as the dark lord contemplated his plans.

"The third task, the ritual, it will happen as is supposed to. Only this time, Potter will not escape his death. Potter has evaded me too many times. He has to learn that he cannot cheat Death. His mother bought him thirteen years of borrowed time, but he will have to fall before Lord Voldemort, as he must. After all, death conquers all."

* * *

 **### My second chapter for the day. My mind is on an overdrive as I am typing more and more. However, this is the last chapter for the day since its almost 10PM over here, and it is time to go to sleep. I will write another couple of chapters tomorrow morning but that is for later. On another note, I only have some six or seven chapters left for Wizarding Chronicles Book 2 to end. I am optimistic that I will end the Book2 in the coming two weeks, though given how Resurgence is getting majority of my attention, it may get delayed for a couple of days.**

 **There is one more thing I wanted to say. I have seen in a lot of Time-travel stories that almost little-to-none changes occur in the behavior of the original characters. Just the timeline shifts a bit, nothing else. I do not want to tread on similar paths. I refuse to accept that just because a good person attempts time travel, everything that changes will be for the GOOD. The GOOD will come, but with it, will come the hell of a lot BAD too. I just want you to keep that in mind, in case you do not want to get a severe shock somewhere down the storyline.**

 **I have begun providing some snaps of Harry's future-past timeline, as I promised. Hopefully you will like it, and of course, please review.**


	16. Chapter 16 : Discoveries

**FOURTH CHAMPION FOR A TRI-WIZARD?**

 **The previous night of Halloween was selected as the moment for the choosing of the Champions for the prestigious Triwizard Tournament, centered at Hogwarts this year. This tournament, revived after almost six hundred years since its cancelation, was a big step made by the Ministry of Magic to promote international cooperation and establish friendly ties with the other nations. Durmstrang Institute of Bulgaria, Beauxbatons Academy of France and Hogwarts School of witchcraft and wizardry are the three contesting schools for what is possibly, the biggest event of the decade. The previous night, the Champions were chosen by what was termed as 'an impartial judge', precisely, the Goblet of Fire.**

 **Created by Circe, one of the most legendary witches of all time, this goblet has been stored safely by the ICW all these years until this very year when the tournament was revived. The tournament was cancelled because of the 'death toll'- the last time the tournament was hosted, a cockatrice went out of control and killed all of the Champions and almost fifty guests, causing mayhem and ultimately closure of the tournament. Whether a similar fate awaits this time is subject to speculation.**

 **The Bulgarian seeker Victor Krum is the Champion for Durmstrang, while Fleur Delacour, winner of this years' Under-19 Dueling tournament is the Champion for Beauxbatons. Cedric Diggory, Prefect and seventh-year Hufflepuff, is selected as Hogwarts Champion. The surprising fact though, is that the goblet selected one more Champion, Harry Potter.**

 **How did this anomaly happen? Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts and Chief warlock, had personally guaranteed that he would make sure that no one under the age of seventeen would be able to pass through his restrictions and put his name into the goblet. Yet somehow, fourteen-year-old Harry Potter was able to put his name, and somehow be selected as Fourth Champion for the tournament of three. How did he manage to confound the goblet? What are the intentions of Harry Potter, who has been notorious for being a Parselmouth as well? How did Dumbledore allow it to happen? Did he want Hogwarts to get an extra bite of the apple, perhaps? If that were so, why not someone from the seniors? Why Harry Potter? Or is some larger game afoot?**

 **Me, attractive blonde Rita Skeeter, whose savage quill has punctured many inflated reputations, am going to personally cover the events at Hogwarts for my dear readers. The first of many events to come, the Weighing of the wands is to be held today. Stay tuned for more updates of the tournament and the mysteries surrounding it.**

The general view of Harry Potter continued to stay the same for the next two days since Halloween, that is to say- Disappointment, anger, fury and of course, jealousy. The newspaper article had not helped matters either way. The students, who had all been disappointed at the fact that their own Headmaster had stopped anyone below the age of seventeen, had not intervened when Harry Potter, the fourteen-year-old fourth-year Gryffindor was selected as the Champions. The feelings were quite diversified, but the reaction was unified- hate and coldness towards Harry Potter.

Not that it mattered to Harry. The previous time, he had been rendered confused, angry and apoplectic by the behavior of his schoolmates. After all, he was just a little brat with very less magical education and even less knowledge of the wizarding world and its hypocrisies. He had barely managed to stay afloat in the tide of the media storm that never seemed to leave him. One week he was heralded as their savior, the next week he was the upcoming dark lord in training.

 _Not this time._

This time however, people were afraid to approach him directly, knowing how powerful the reclusive Potter was. Some of the Slytherins had tried to show a brave face and bully him, but before they could even attempt, the wrath of the Ice Queen made them back down. For some reason, the Ice Queen believed in him, something that the rest of the students did not understand.

The general belief was that becoming a Champion of the prestigious Triwizard meant a direct entry into the world of fame and limelight, something every kid in school wanted to achieve. The tournament had been sponsored by many reputed companies and organizations and would be directly broadcasted by various news agencies all across the globe. Being the Champion meant access to the excellent comforts provided to the Champions, plus the fame of being one. It was almost a direct ticket for a high-paying job out of school. A number of Broom manufacturing companies had already approached Diggory for endorsement, and both Tutshil Tornadoes and Willeborne Wasps had sent scouts to convince him to be the brand for their leagues. Cosmetic companies, trying to convince her to endorse their products, had surrounded Fleur Delacour. Victor Krum, well he was Victor Krum. The international magazines were interviewing the Champions, and of course, the fact that the Champions did not have to attend any classes at all just sweetened the deal. In short, becoming a Champion meant becoming a celebrity overnight.

The Ravenclaws had been the most silent out of the four houses—their inquisitive minds busy trying to figure out how Harry Potter did the trick. Speculation was high among the Claws with the occasional Slytherin or Hufflepuff joining them in their analysis. The Slytherins led by Malfoy, had taken to wearing badges supporting Cedric Diggory, the real Hogwarts Champion while the badges would flash 'Potter stinks' whenever Potter was near. It was neat for an amateur, but Malfoy boasted on it as if it were an achievement. The Hufflepuffs were enraged and most vindictive of the lot. The House of the Commons never had any great achievements, so when one of their own was selected as Hogwarts Champion, it seemed there was no end to their glory. Then Harry Potter, the boy who had been famous before he could walk, had to just go and snatch the glory from their faces. As if he needed more glory and fame than he already had. It was an atrocity. A group led by Zacharias Smith, had openly attacked Harry, trying to impress upon him the severity of his actions. Of course, the fact that Smith and his associates had been let out from the Hospital wing a week later demonstrated that the message did not go as well as intended.

The worst reaction had come from the Gryffindors. Angelina had downright accused him to be a traitor to the House, seconded by none other than Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger. Neville had stayed silent, knowing that he had no representation in the House of the Rowdy, but let Harry know privately that he believed him. The twins also had demonstrated faith in him, though they let him know that publicly, they would not demonstrate support since after all, Angelina was Fred's girlfriend and Alicia was George's. The funny thing was- Harry had taken it all in good sport.

* * *

Daphne had watched him since Halloween. Potter...Harry was indeed a mystery. He kept to himself, never trying to even defend himself from the derogatory remarks from the rest of the school. However, if any physical attack were made to his person, he would come down on the attackers with overwhelming force. The little fights in the corridors were almost scary at times. Enraged students would go in groups trying to belittle and hex him, and would then have to be taken away by more students to the Hospital Wing. Sometimes it was even funny. She had even tried to ask him about his behavior, leading to one of those interesting conversations.

 **FLASHBACK**

"You know, you could give a magical oath in public, stating that you did not-"

"Enter my name in the goblet?" Harry took the words out of her mouth, "to what end? For these people?-" he sneered, "these sheep, who just believe whatever anyone with the biggest mouth shouts at them? I don't think so."

Daphne stayed silent. "You are angry with them, and not just for the tournament."

Harry glanced at her. Of all the annoying precociousness that the elder Greengrass displayed, an immense amount of perception was the most distinct. Amazing perception, cool head and raw cunning, add up some talent with the wand. It was no surprise, that she had grown up to become the fearsome witch she knew.

"When I was first introduced to the Wizarding world, I was surrounded by a group of people, who mobbed me, all the while thanking me for something I had no idea about. Even before I reached school, they tried to mold me into the various political factions—light by Weasley and Hagrid, and dark by Malfoy. These people—they all see me as the Boy-who-lived, their savior from Voldemort, and expect so much more from me, but whenever they see something unexpected, they have no problem vilifying me. I am heralded as a savior one week, a dark lord the next." -Daphne actually laughed at that- "They hear about me speaking Parseltongue and have no problem vilifying me as the heir of Slytherin. I did refute back quite loudly then, why didn't they believe me?"

"You never took an oath!" She tried, playing the devil's advocate in this case.

Harry fixed her with a blank stare. "I was a little brat with a year of magical education. I did not know anything about oaths. The senior students, the teachers- they all knew yet none of them came forward to actually ask me if I did it. No, they were all happy in their mental image that I was the culprit. It took me killing a sixty feet long basilisk to prove my innocence. And now again, they have no problem vilifying me, trying to shove up their frustrations at being ' _normal_ ' at me—the famous freak in town." He sneered.

Daphne just stood silently, hearing all that he had to say. "They do not hate me because I apparently fooled the goblet and became the Champion. They hate me because _they could not do the same_. They lack the power, the skill, the sentiment, the ability, and just because they need someone to shove their frustrations on, they use me. Their punching bag- the boy-who-lived. Their answer for all of their problems."

Harry paused for a while and then looked directly in her eyes. "You say that I should state an oath in public? I challenge you—wait for the tasks. If my performance goes spectacular, then these very people will come down on their knees-asking me to share my glory with them. They will not even care for the oath. These _Gryffindors_ ," Daphne was sure she had sensed an enormity of disdain for the House, - "they will _beg_ me to return back, just to have a chance to enjoy the glory of having a Champion in their House."

"You are mightily confident of yourself, Potter. I know you are very powerful and talented. But-" a desperation filled her eyes, -"this tournament has a _'death toll'_ associated with it. People have _died_ here..."

Harry cast a strange look at her. "You have seen what I can do, Greengrass; and I assure you, you still do not know anything."

For some reason, Daphne believed him. "Just be safe."

Harry raised an eyebrow at her. "Why Greengrass, I didn't know you cared!" Daphne fought a blush from forming on her cheeks, as she retorted heatedly. "If you die, my contract would still be unbroken. Make sure you don't die, Potter." She glared.

Harry just smirked.

 **END OF FLASHBACK**

* * *

Being a champion had its benefits; Harry had to hand it over to the organizers. The previous time, he was too confused dazzled with the turn of events to actually make use of the perks. This time however, he was using it completely to his benefit. Since he was underage, the Triwizard Committee had handed him an official document declaring him as temporarily emancipated until the end of school term. Since the school ended by the end of May, it covered almost the whole year. He had wasted no time in sending the document to Grimjaw, asking him to check if it would hasten the process of his acquiring his Wizengamot seats. Besides, each Champion was given the offer to have one single person as a helper or tutor for the course of the tournament. Said helper would also enjoy the comforts offered to the Champions themselves, one of which included free and unlimited access to the restricted section of the Hogwarts library. Daphne had been overjoyed when Harry had asked her to be his official helper for the tournament. Cedric had asked Flitwick to be his helper, while Krum had chosen professor Ivanov, the dueling Master of Durmstrang. Fleur had sought advice from her teacher and Master, Madame Thibeaux.

The time for the Weighing of the Wands had finally arrived. The location was still the same. It was a fairly small classroom; most of the desks had been pushed away to the back of the room, leaving a large space in the middle; three of them, however, had been placed end-to-end in front of the blackboard and covered with a long length of velvet. Five chairs had been set behind the velvet-covered desks, and Ludo Bagman was sitting in one of them, talking to Rita Skeeter.

Viktor Krum was standing moodily in a corner as usual and not talking to anybody. Cedric and Fleur were in conversation. Fleur looked a good deal happier than Harry had seen her so far; she kept throwing back her head so that her long silvery hair caught the light. She had done her best to avoid talking to him since Halloween, not that it was difficult since he had spent a majority of time in the Chamber or in the Room of Requirement. A paunchy man, holding a large black camera that was smoking slightly, was watching Fleur out of the corner of his eye. Bagman suddenly spotted Harry, got up quickly, and bounded forward.

"Ah, here he is! Champion number four! In you come, Harry, in you come... nothing to worry about, it's just the wand weighing ceremony, and the rest of the judges will be here in a moment—"

"Harry—where were you?" Cedric asked in a soft tone.

"Here and there," he shrugged, as Daphne came behind him, and stood there.

"Now come on, quick Mr. Potter. The others are still waiting." Ludo called out quickly and Harry moved in to stand beside Fleur.

"May I introduce Mr. Ollivander?" said Dumbledore, taking his place at the judges' table and talking to the champions. "He will be checking your wands to ensure that they are in good condition before the tournament."

Harry looked up toward the man who had given him his first wand. Voldemort had killed Ollivander personally before the battle of Hogwarts. The eccentric old man had given him a surprising show by raising some very obscure wards, holding the death eaters at bay for a couple of hours.

"Mademoiselle Delacour, could we have you first, please?" said Mr. Ollivander, stepping into the empty space in the middle of the room.

Fleur swept over to Mr. Ollivander and handed him her wand. He twirled the wand between his long fingers like a baton and it emitted a number of pink and gold sparks. Then he held it close to his eyes and examined it carefully.

"Yes," he said quietly, "nine and a half inches... inflexible, rosewood and containing... dear me... is this Veela hair?"

"From my Grandmother!" Fleur countered proudly.

"Excellent! Excellent! All though I never used Veela hair core for my wands, very temperamental, however to each his own..." He whispered, " _Orchideous_!"

A bunch of roses fell out of the tip of the wand. "Excellent! Excellent!" He returned Fleur her wand, who pocketed it.

"Mr. Diggory? You are next." Cedric smiled proudly and submitted his wand to Ollivander who inspected it. "Yes, I remember it well. This is one of mine. Containing a single hair from the tail of a particularly fine male unicorn, must have been seventeen hands; nearly gored me with his horn after I plucked his tail. Twelve and a quarter inches, ash, pleasantly springy. It's in fine condition."

You treat it regularly?"

"Polished it last night," said Cedric, grinning.

"As you should!" Ollivander winked. Harry wondered if the old man was being a pervert over the sexual innuendo of the situation.

Mr. Ollivander sent a stream of silver smoke rings across the room from the tip of Cedric's wand, pronounced himself satisfied.

"And now, Mr. Krum."

"Hornbeam and Dragon Heartstring. Ah! This is a Gregorovitch creation, is it not?" Krum nodded stiffly. "Rather thicker than one usually sees, quite rigid, ten and a quarter inches... _Avis_!"

A blast and a number of tiny twittering birds flew out of the wand. "Excellent! Excellent! And now, Mr. Potter."

 _This is going to be interesting..._

Harry smiled and extended his wand towards the old man, who touched it for a second before removing his hand away. The reaction made everyone curious about it.

"What is wrong, Mr. Ollivander?" Skeeter asked, her quill poised in hope of getting a juicy story out of it.

Ollivander scrunched up his face for a while before tentatively touching the wand again, and on Harry's nod, he took the wand in his hand. The propensity to throw it away was quite strong but the powerful mental defenses of the old wand maker allowed him to hold it and study it for a bit.

"Holly, thirteen and half inches, one that I do _not_ recognize. Very carefully crafted like your original wand, but... oh Merlin! A liquid core? Powerful... is that _blood?"_

"BLOOD?" Skeeter all but shouted out, her quill scratching the surface of her notepad. Ollivander cleared his throat and continued, "Yes. Ingenious! Blood as a liquid core, the liquid heart of a wand. This wand is an extension of you, Mr. Potter."

Harry simply nodded. Rita Skeeter seemed too excited. "The fourth champion is using an illegal wand, this will be sensational." Ollivander interrupted her, "No Miss Skeeter, this is not illegal. Just that I did not recognize this as my own."

"But you said-" She tried, her quill scratching the already written lines to write again. Ollivander shook his head, "this wand is not crafted by me. Very crude, but yet very versatile. Very interesting considering its core. I assume you had this crafted privately?"

Harry nodded. "I did."

Ollivander thrust the wand in an anticlockwise arc and whispered, "Pyros..." A tiny amount of flames burst out of the wand, forming a dragon before dispersing away. "It is in perfect condition. Did you check this wand in with the Ministry?"

"I am emancipated, sir."

"Oh, of course. Very well." He returned the wand to Harry who sent it back to the holster.

"Very well, now that we are done, everyone please return back!" Dumbledore began, only to be cut off by the reporter, "Photos! Dumbledore, Photos!"

The four Champions were then made to stand in groups, singles, in duos and what nots. After an excruciating torture of thirty minutes, the photographer was done with them.

"Mr. Potter!" Skeeter's voice reverberated. "Rita Skeeter from the Daily Prophet." Her hair was set in elaborate and curiously rigid curls that contrasted oddly with her heavy-jawed face. She wore jeweled spectacles. The thick fingers clutching her crocodile-skin handbag ended in two-inch nails, painted crimson.

"I was wondering if I could have a few words..."

"Sure. Not interested. There, you have your two words." With a smirk on his face, he walked away with Daphne, leaving the perplexed reporter behind.

* * *

"That was a good show, Potter." Daphne commented, making him look at her with an amused smile. "Yes, it was." Harry returned, before lying down on a conjured bed in the Room of Requirement. He closed his eyes, thinking about his possible moves in the future.

"Introspective much?"

Harry opened his eyes and looked at her, an amused smile on his face. "Not introspective, just planning for the future. Did Lucius give a date and time?"

Daphne sighed. She hated talking about the contract. "Yes, he did. It is on November 26, two days after the first task. Apparently, he was amused that someone had decided to fight for us."

"He should be. Even I am amused." Harry teased. Daphne hit him on the shoulder. "Stop being a prat." She sat on the bed beside him, her eyes dazed in contemplation. "You have no idea how thankful I am for whatever you are doing for me."

"Oh." Harry deadpanned, "well if you are really feeling that grateful, you could do something for me in return." Daphne looked at him, surprised. "And what would that be?"

"Well I am quite tired and all, but if you could get me some chocolate from the kitchens, it would be great." Daphne sat silent for two seconds as the statement made sense, before she began to laugh. "Only you, Potter. Only you!"

Harry just smirked. "What is the reaction from Slytherin House regarding my selection?"

"Mixed. Some people think you are innocent. However, that faction is quite small. Most just believe that you are some kind of glory-hound."

"Of course." Harry snapped, before asking, "Who believed me innocent?"

"Well Tracy for one. We had a talk and she told me that she believes you. Then there is Nott and Zabini and someone called Smith from sixth year, but I do not know him. Why do you ask?"

"Just... was thinking of extending my circles."

"Tired of me, Potter?"

"You wish." Harry retorted. Daphne maturely stuck out her tongue. Harry chortled.

* * *

And he did extend his circles. The very next day, Daphne introduced him to Nott and Zabini in the library. Harry was inwardly jumping with joy at the prospect of finally meeting his greatest friends, although they did not know him yet. Not personally anyway. Theo Nott, ever the silent bookworm and Blaise Zabini—perhaps the most suave boy in Hogwarts. While Nott's father was a death eater, he had taught him to think for himself and then decide. It wasn't a surprise that when the dark lord returned in 1995, he had killed Nott Senior because the man did not agree with the dark lord on matters of his son. His body was sent home mutilated and in pieces.

"So Potter, excited about the first task?" Theo asked him over the library table. Harry had raised an obscure privacy ward, enabling them to converse without having to suffer the wrath of Madam Pince. The three boys had become fast friends, or at least... good acquaintances since friends was a bit _premature_ word in Slytherin, though Harry was optimistic.

"Almost. Greengrass does the worrying. I just do."

Blaise laughed aloud at the statement while Daphne swatted his leg from under the table, fixing him with an odd stare. "You should know, Potter. The whole school still wonders how you managed to get the Ice Queen go all soft with you. Tell me, when are you going on an official date?"

Harry sucked in his breath, something that was very well noticed by Theo and Daphne. Ignoring it, Daphne replied. "We are not dating. Potter and I, we have a..." her eyes darted towards his for a moment-"agreement."

"She is right!" Harry quickly added, too quickly in his opinion. Blaise shook his head. "That may be, but for the rest of the school, you are dating."

Harry just sat silent, his mind lost in contemplation.

* * *

"I don't know what to do, Tracy. It's a mess." Daphne complained. The two friends sat inside their dorm, deciding on the best way to deal with the sudden complication. Ever since Blaise had let out the 'dating comment', Potter had become quite... reserved in his dealings with her. Of course, their dueling sessions continued, but his behavior was a tad more formal than previously. On the third day of the same annoying repetition of his changed behavior, Daphne lost it completely.

 **FLASHBACK**

"What the fuck is wrong with you, Potter?"

Harry raised his eyebrows. "Whatever do you mean?" Daphne stood up and glared at her friend and tutor. One who had slowly been turning more and more distant in his dealings with her.

"You. You are all closed and reserved. What is wrong with you? Is this about that comment? I assure you it is all right!" Daphne ignored the sick feeling within her as she fessed up in front of him. Harry stood up, and looked away. "Nothing is wrong, Greengrass. I am just a bit...busy about something, that's all."

"Really? It doesn't seem so." She snapped. "I think you are just being a coward, running away from your own emotions." Harry whirled back and looked at her dangerously. "Take that back." He hissed.

"NO I WON'T." Daphne returned, "Not until you tell me what is wrong?" -she could not help herself. -"I—I like you, and I like you a lot. What is so wrong in that? Why are you being so distant ever since then?"

"It's'—it's personal." Harry muttered, his hands shaking. "I need to stay alone. Please, let me stay alone."

"You know what? I will give you that. Stay alone." She yelled, before stomping away.

 **END OF FLASHBACK**

"I don't know how to face him. Something is troubling him deeply, and he just won't tell it to me at all." Daphne confessed, her mind driven by a turbulent rush of emotions. Tracy sat silently on her bed as she muttered, "I don't know Daph. He never showed an interest in me, despite me being so forward." She looked at her and continued, "Do you think he likes someone? Maybe that's why he doesn't want to be with you in that way?"

Daphne sighed. "I don't know. He has always been with Weasel and Granger until this year, and then with me. I have never heard him interested in anyone."

"Perhaps someone is interested in him, and he wants to reciprocate it?"

"I don't know!"

* * *

 **Two nights later...**

"I swear I am just going to talk to you about the tournament... I swear I am sorry for my behavior that day. I-" Daphne stopped muttering to herself, as she stood in front of the Room of Requirement. All through the way, she had been muttering to herself what she planned to say to him. The door opened noiselessly as she walked in. Harry had previously figured out a way to set a password for the Room, such that it would only work for him and Daphne. It had taken a lot of tinkering with the ancient wards of the castle, but after a week's of nasty work, it had worked like a charm. Now only he and Daphne had access to the finest room in the castle.

In front of her, lying down on the bed, thrashing in his sleep, was Harry Potter.

Daphne rushed towards him, ready to hold him and wake him up when she realized he was saying something. His face was a scrunched mess, his hairs unkempt as he kept on thrashing his hands and legs, muttering something incoherently. Daphne held her breath and tried to get close and hear what he was saying in his sleep.

"Will not- will not—I—will—will not—I will kill you- I will—kill—you!"

 _What?_

Daphne's mind went on an overdrive. Harry was muttering about killing someone in his sleep. She was just about to wake him up when a strange thought flitted through her mind. Something about Legilimency that her father had taught her. A secret spell from her family library.

Waving her wand and placing it near his temple, Daphne whispered, _"Legilimens mentis."_

She drove into his subconscious dream world.

It was a half-destroyed street. She could see the hazy forms of ghosts in some of the burnt out husks of buildings that remained. On closer analysis, it became clear where she was. The shops, the buildings, the white edifice in the center.

 _Is this Diagon Alley? What happened to this place?_

Then, she heard a voice. One she was intimately familiar with. The voice belonged to the one person on earth she had feelings for, beside her family. Harry Potter. She ran all the way to a narrow alley, only to jump to her side as a crimson spell sped past her.

 _I am in a dream. The spells will not hurt me._

Reminding herself of the reality, she walked towards the gray-robed man standing a few yards away from her. Gray robes, which she had seen almost a month ago. Harry had worn them. She had seen it from the cupboard, but had discarded it as her imagination.

Then, she heard his voice.

"It's over Raven. You have killed the last person you will ever kill in this life. I will end you today, for now and forever." Harry shouted. His voice was almost the same, except that it was a tad more heavy than usual. There was another person standing opposite him, a woman from what it seemed. She wore purple robes, with a hood covering her face. Then she spoke. For some reason, he voice was intimately familiar to her.

"Give it up Potter. You do not have it in you to kill me. My bosses will love it, when they know that Longbottom is dead. Bones is captured. You may have defeated the ICW but Inferno Corp. will get you."

 _Raven? What is this? Harry defeated the ICW? Inferno Corp.? Is this from...?_

Daphne shivered as the thought came to her.

 _The future?_

She just watched him get even more infuriated and throw out powerful spells. Lethal curses, exploding hexes and dark curses in quick succession. The female dodged the attacks and returned fire with cutting hexes and exploding spells. Daphne could almost guess her movements. A quick dodge, a high jump, and double exploding hex and now...

 _A severing-hex spell chain._

The words had barely formed in her mind when the figure did the same. Harry had showed her some of the flaws of that particular dueling technique. Now, she was seeing that single flaw being demonstrated once again.

Potter quickly created an illusion and side stepped her attacks, catching her by surprise. The powerful bludgeoner that hit her head-on threw off her hood, revealing the very familiar raven-haired blue-eyed angelic face under the hood.

 _Is that... Me?_

Daphne watched with shock and awe as Harry narrowed his wide-area attacks on her, forcing her to shift from offense to defense. Harry was coming down upon the woman...with overwhelming force... hexes, spells flew, and then with one sudden attack, her wand was disarmed away from her.

 _No! What is happening? Why Harry is... why is he fighting me?_

"You should not have killed Neville. You should not have helped them capture Susan." Harry sneered, the bitterness of his voice distinct as he cast spell after spell at the fallen form in front of him. The girl looked up at him with a familiar cruel sneer and laughed. "It was fun to kill them, Potter. It was fun to-"

Silence. Something had happened. Harry had cast a spell so fast that the girl had not seen it coming. Slowly she felt a strange pain flick across her neck. A thin red line materialized on her neck, the drops of fresh blood glistening in the dirt and sweat on her skin.

Her head rolled off.

"NO!" Daphne yelled loudly, losing control over her spell as she was thrown out of Harry's mind. She opened her eyes to find a very deadly and dangerous Harry Potter staring back at her; his eyes cold and vengeful.

* * *

 **### Well that's it for this chapter. I hope you enjoy it. And of course, please review. It works wonders for my muse, especially when I have to work so fast.**


	17. Chapter 17 : Dwelling on dreams

_You should not have killed Neville. You should not have helped them capture Susan." Harry sneered, the bitterness of his voice distinct as he cast spell after spell at the fallen form in front of him. The girl looked up at him with a familiar cruel sneer and laughed. "It was fun to kill them, Potter. It was fun to-"_

 _Silence. Something had happened. Harry had cast a spell so fast that the girl had not seen it coming. Slowly she felt a strange pain flick across her neck. A thin red line materialized on her neck, the drops of fresh blood glistening in the dirt and sweat on her skin._

 _Her head rolled off._

 _"NO!" Daphne yelled loudly, losing control over her spell as she was thrown out of Harry's mind. She opened her eyes to find a very deadly and dangerous Harry Potter staring back at her; his eyes cold and vengeful._

* * *

"Enjoyable, was it?" Harry snarled. Daphne swallowed as she felt herself be inundated in a feeling she believed she would never feel anymore.

Fear. Raw primal fear.

"Who- who are you?" she stammered. Harry rose up and snarled at her. "Does it matter?"

Daphne gulped. Her mind went into overdrive as she began to garner the different odd incidents and mysteries surrounding Harry Potter... his sudden change in behavior, his sudden charisma... his power and his knowledge... His ruthlessness and his skills...everything was suddenly crystal clear.

"You are from the...the future?" she stammered, her fear gripping her heart.

"Yes." Harry snarled, moving away from her and sitting on the bed. Daphne gathered some courage and stood up. "You killed me. Cut off my-"

"Yes."

"Why?"

Harry looked at her, an amused smile forming on his face, "For someone who just realized that I came from the future—a future in which I personally killed you- you are taking it exceptionally well."

Daphne swallowed. "Is that why...you were so ruthless and intimidating to me in the beginning?"

Harry did not answer. He looked away, his wand twirling in his hand. Daphne paced closer to him. "Have you come to kill me?"

Harry looked at her with _the_ look—the one which clearly said-'why would you ask me such a stupid question?' Daphne realized what she was saying; as her head cleared out of the sudden trauma, she had been through... "No, the contract. You cannot kill me, just as I cannot. You neutralized me, made me join your side..."

"Very good, Greengrass."

"Was it all just one big masterful plan? All this...being friends, teaching me...making me _feel_ for you?" Her eyes brimmed with tears, as she fought to keep them away dismally.

Harry just looked up at her, blankly. Daphne could not take it any longer. Tears drenching her face, she ran out of the Room, sobbing as she sprinted off to her dorm.

* * *

 _Bad things happen to wizards who mess with Time..._

 _Bad things happen to wizards who mess with Time..._

 _Bad things happen to wizards who mess with Time..._

 _Bad things happen to wizards who-_

"Master?"

Harry jumped up at the sudden noise. It was Dobby, with a letter in his hand. "Your dog father has sent you a letter." Harry looked crazed for a moment before he slowly extended his hand, summoning the letter towards him.

 **Dear Prongslet,**

 **My mind therapy sessions are almost at an end. The healer says that I will be free to return by the next two weeks. Got in touch with Remus. If everything goes to plan, Remus will take Padfoot to watch you at the First Task.**

 **Do not listen to what everyone is saying. You told me that you did not enter. I believe you. End of story. The people are fickle, always have been. I served them as an Auror for years, and yet they threw me into prison without a trial, just because I was a Black. These sheep, they are not worth anything, pup. Time changes people, but the sheep need to be shown the way.**

 **I just have one thing to tell you.** _ **Win the damn thing.**_

 **Your loving dog father,  
Padfoot.**

Harry held the letter in his hand and read it again. Sirius believed him, just like the previous time. On the other hand, his wordings were vastly changed. The previous time round, Sirius' words danced around 'Dumbledore thinks' and 'Dumbledore said'. He might have sent those letters to Dumbledore anyway. This time however, the letters demonstrated the thoughts of a man who thought for himself, had his own personal opinion.

 _It is good to have you back, Sirius._

His eyes went through the letter once again. Time changes people... It was true. Greengrass was not Raven... Greengrass was Daphne...nice, funny, loyal, sarcastic, powerful, supportive...

 _Just like Fleur._

 _Fleur..._

Fleur had not talked with him since Halloween. Her haughty indifference was at open display, whenever Harry was in the Room. He pondered over the fact. Ever since that event—the moment he had shown complete disdain for the tournament, Fleur had changed her track. For all her talents, her haughtiness was the least bearable, even when she was his girlfriend. Fleur was always bent over proving to the world that she was the best.

That there was no one like her.

 _Like Daphne._

The girl had evolved under his tutelage, both magically, emotionally and tactically. She had grown with him and had begun to have feelings for him. Yet when he had rejected the idea of having a date with her in presence of her friends, she had not even uttered a word...

 _However, she had confessed that she had feelings for me... She knows my secret now... she saw what I did to her in the future...perhaps she will hate me now._

 _Fuck it. I am always in a mess, and then I go and create some more mess._

"Oh Merlin, I am a mess."

"Merlin has nothing to do with your mess."

Harry spun behind and stood up, his wand raised and a curse at his lips. The sight of the same old messy black hair, brown eyes, and the thin chiseled face of his brother greeted him. The form was ethereal, as if made of smoke...

"Hey Potter."

"Theo...How...Wha-"

"Very articulate, Potter."

Harry controlled himself and replied, "How are you... you know..."

"Here?" Theo countered, "You are the Master of the Hallows. You should know... I just came here, because your powers told me that I needed to be here. Now pray tell me Potter, what exactly are you doing? I died so that you could-"

"I know, so that I could change the past and-" Harry began. Theo scoffed and continued, "To hell with your thoughts. I died so that you could live, damn it."

"What?"

"Great. Tell me Potter, did you hit yourself in the head during the Time-travel? I died so that you could live. Because if you live, you will be able to set things right. Our team, our circle, remember. Gabby, Susan, Neville even Draco has been scoffing in the afterlife looking at your idiotic behavior."

"I know- I lied to you all—I wanted to save Fleur and-"

"And what Potter? Shit happens, we move on. Stop being a right prat and get up. You are a dark lord damn it. We saw what you did to Raven, and I am very proud of the way you took her under your wing. You gave her a chance to the future she did not get previously. What I cannot understand is the reason behind you behaving like a moron and being distant from her!"

"Because Fleur-"

"-is her own independent person. You cannot make her love you. You are just chasing behind an old dream, and ignoring your own present. This Fleur is not the one who was your girlfriend. Never will be. Your actions changed the time stream too much for that. Daphne loves you, damn it. And yet you are completely blank about it, running behind an old dream of you and your Fleur."

 _It does not do well to dwell on dreams and forget to live... Twenty years, and still I am a student learning from Dumbledore_.

Harry looked up at his brother's form and smiled. "I will do it correct this time, my brother. Thank you for setting me right."

Theo smirked as the ethereal form began to fade away... slowly.

"Give them hell, Potter."

"I will."

* * *

Daphne had shut off from the rest of the world, sitting inside her own dorm. Even Tracy had to set up a makeshift bed for the day, since Daphne had sternly told her that she wanted to stay alone. The soft facial features had turned ice cold, and after days of watching the real Daphne rising back into the forefront, the Ice Queen was suddenly back in full force. Tracy wondered what might have happened, but did not expound the argument.

"He is lied to me about everything... I blindly began to trust him. He killed me in the future..." Daphne muttered to herself. "He never had any feelings for me... It was all a plan..."

"Now that would be quite unfair on your part!"

Daphne spun around to see the blasted figure of Harry Potter standing next to her bed, which blasted smirk in his lips. Her fury rising to extreme heights, she drew her wand towards him and snarled, "Come to finish what you started, Potter?"

Harry did not reply and just strode up front, walking towards her. Daphne held her wand tightly, readying herself for any sudden attack. Potter stood in front of her for a moment before sitting down on her bed. "Very comfy..."

"Stop playing with me, Potter. How did you get in here and what do you want?"

"So many questions...very well, let me try answering them in order. Yes, I have come to finish what I started. I got in there in the same way I get everywhere else. I want to explain myself to you."

Daphne eyed him carefully. "Kind of weird, listening to my own killer about his reasons..."

"Damn it Greengrass, I do not want to kill you. If I wanted it, I would not have taken you under my wing. I would not have chosen to fight for your honor. I would not have tried to be friends with you."

"Then why?"

"Because, because the future-you was a mercenary; one who was working for the destroyer of the magical world. Inferno Corporation. Because you had interfered and spoiled my plans many a time to end the monster that was plaguing the world. My friends and me had taken over the ICW, and were about to take over the bigoted world to create a new world—one where there would only be magical and non-magical. Where magic mattered, not blood."

"And this Inferno Corporation, they were against it?"

"It is a long story. To say in brief, Inferno wanted to make the magical world a damn copy of the mundane world. They had started as a company of muggleborn witches and wizards under the leadership of Granger-" Daphne raised her eyebrows-"and were an organization which employed Muggleborns and squibs, intending to make new developments inspired from the mundane. Slowly they grew more and more ambitious and their roots spread out into the Ministry of magic and the ICW. They did whatever was necessary to achieve their goals. Slowly, they took over the two organizations and established themselves as the top power in our world."

"And me?"

"You were a mercenary for hire, working for them."

"I cannot see myself working for a group which wants to destroy the magical world." Daphne scoffed.

"I do not have the answer to that question. I did not know you personally then. The first time we fought, it was when I had become notorious as a dark lord-" Harry laughed bitterly-"and you were among the forces of the Inferno. You destroyed a lot of my attempts—always fearsome with a wand, and I wasn't so skilled back then-moving on, you killed a lot of people, some of them being very dear to me-"

"Longbottom and Bones."

"Right, you saw that, so I was mad with rage, and you taunted me about their deaths and-"

"I saw—you beheaded me." Daphne felt a cold shudder down her spine. Harry just nodded.

"So why are you here?"

"Everyone was dead. Only me and Theo-" Daphne looked at him sharply and Harry gave her a sheepish look-"the two of us were alive. We planned to come back into the past and kill Voldy and-"

"Voldy?" Daphne chortled.

"Voldy—Tom—Dork Lord—Moldy shorts, choose your favorite. I tried not to say the name—too many people flinching all the time." Harry continued sheepishly, as Daphne laughed. Harry's face turned serious. "We had prepared the ritual, but then we were ambushed."

"What happened?"

"Theo sacrificed his life so that I could live... I activated the ritual and here I am."

Daphne sat down on the bed beside him. "So you are here; you made your old opponent into your ally; and what else? Don't tell me you are behind the Pureblood killings-"

"I won't."

Daphne gaped at him. "You-you killed off ten of those death-eaters, including my uncle. Not that I am complaining, but then- I assume you killed Flint too?"

Harry shrugged.

"Sweet Morgana! I am friends with a time-travelling serial killer!"

"How does that feel?"

"Thrilling." Daphne exclaimed, almost hysteric with shock. "Any other surprises you would like to spring upon me?"

"I might have a few more."

Daphne raised her eyebrows. "No leave it. I don't think I can bear any more at the moment." She drew an elated breath, and then sharply turned to him. "You sure you are not here to kill me, right?"

Harry looked at her amused. "Should I give you a magical oath?"

Daphne fell back. "No, just checking. Merlin! This is blowing my mind!" she held her head, running her hands into her luxuriant hair.

"I appreciate that." Harry returned.

"Stop being a smart ass, Potter." Daphne scoffed. Harry just laughed. Daphne stopped her antics and then turned back at him, "I am surprised you took all the trouble in explaining all of it to me. You could have... oh I don't know... bound and obliviated me and be done with it!"

"I could not. We are in détente with each other, remember?"

"Right!"

"What were you actually doing there, in the Room of Requirement? I thought you were done with it all?"

"I was actually going to apologize to you." Daphne replied sheepishly. "I shouted and I yelled, and... I understand it now. You have lived for years with me as your enemy. You perhaps only tolerate me because of our contract and our tentative friendship and I remind you of the deaths and mmmmmmmh!"

It was blissful oblivion. Harry had gone ahead and kissed her full in the lips, kissing her passionately. Daphne's eyes widened instantly as she realized what had happened before the reality of the situation sunk into her, and she returned the kiss. After one full minute, they separated. Daphne's eyes were dazed and Harry had a goofy smile on his face.

"My friends wanted me to get out of my blind running behind a dream and actually live. I am not going to disappoint them."

Daphne nodded blankly before she went ahead and kissed him softly again. "This is real, right?"

"Yes, this is, Daphne."

* * *

The news that Greengrass and Potter were officially a couple was received with much surprise in Hogwarts. Tracy had gaped like a fish when she saw the couple walking towards the Great hall, hand in hand, while Blaise and Theo had a knowing grin on their faces. Theo silently passed Blaise ten galleons with a slight frown; something that changed into a grin when he extended his hand and received fifteen galleons from Tracy. As it was, many people had placed bets about when Greengrass and Potter would begin officially dating as a couple.

Being the Triwizard champion, Harry stayed out of all the classes, except Transfiguration, Charms, DADA and Potions. Transfiguration and Charms simply because the professors held him in high regard, and he did not want to set a bad picture of him in their minds as a person taking undue advantage of being Champion. He had taken DADA because he wanted to experience Moody's teaching firsthand, not having had the chance to have it previously. Potions, because of the man teaching it. Horace Slughorn had taken up the ropes of Slytherin House excellently and was quite popular among the students, both Slytherin and non-Slytherin. Whatever faults the man may have, he did know how to make a student interested in Potions. He would randomly quiz people, demonstrate brewing of complicated potions himself and importantly, was an unbiased teacher with a sense of decorum and fair play.

Soon it was time for the First Task, and as usual, the couple was in the Room of Requirement, having a duel with each other. Now that the task was days away, Daphne couldn't help but worry, never mind the fact that Harry had promised that he had already won it last time. She had liked rubbing it on his face that because of his altering the timeline; the events could have changed as well, something that had vanished the arrogant grin from Harry's face.

Convinced that Daphne had a point, Harry had taken his Firebolt first thing next morning and flew outside towards the Forbidden forest. Just as expected, he saw flames arising in the middle of the forest. Turning himself invisible, he flew close towards the source of the flames. Just as last time, there were dragons—four vicious dragons. Checking once again to confirm, he was satisfied that there were only four dragons—the same ones as previous time.

As he retired back to the Room of Requirement, he silently prodded into the room, not wanting to disturb Daphne who was busy perusing through the books. His stealth runic matrix active, he went behind her, trying to see what she was reading.

"Talon clipping by charms... treating scale-rot... This is no good; this is for nutters like Hagrid who want to keep them healthy..." she was muttering, as she turned over to the next page, "" 'Dragons are extremely difficult to slay, owing to the ancient magic that imbues their thick hides, which none but the most powerful spells can penetrate...hmm, not useful, I already knew that; hmm..."

Harry stood amused at her antics and continued to eavesdrop on his girlfriend, as she continued, "Switching Spells... but what's the point of switching it? Unless you swapped its fangs for wine-gums or something that would make it less dangerous... then again dragon hide is almost impervious to magic... hmm, transfiguration perhaps? That too will not work. Instant scalping... but dragons had no hair... pepper breath... that would probably increase a dragon's firepower... horn tongue...just what I needed- to give it an extra weapon."

Harry could not keep it and bawled out in laughter making Daphne squawk out in surprise. "Harry! When did you enter? I did not hear you. Where you eavesdropping on me?" She exclaimed, her hands at her hips.

"Nor eavesdropping, just overhearing. If you wanted it to be private, you could have put a privacy ward around you." Harry teased.

"Using my own words against me, Potter?" Daphne taunted, her eyes narrowed dangerously. Harry raised his hands up in surrendered, "I kid, I kid." Daphne lowered his eyes and inquired, "Did you find out about the dragons?"

"Yes, mistress!" Harry replied, imitating Dobby perfectly.

"Prat!"

* * *

 **### A short chapter, I know. But I wanted to be done with it before beginning with the task. My second chapter and possibly the answer to your waiting. Please review...**


	18. Chapter 18 : Here be Dragons

**###AUTHORS' NOTE : There is something I wanted to ask my readers, if you do not mind. If you do, feel free to skip this and continue with the story. You see, a couple of years ago, I used to be a kind of person who could just create a poem in BAM! 20 TO 30 minutes out of scratch. But then, I left all of that for some idiotic, sentimental and bullshit reasons. Now, what I want to know is how good those writings were, if at all, and want to post them here on my profile. I know this is a site for fanfiction and I am talking about original writing, but I was wondering if my readers would be kind enough to give those writings a look and let me know how they were. Maybe I could get my old poetry-muse back!**

 **Just a request. If you think it is reasonable, please feel free to say so in your review. If not, well say that either. Now no point delaying any further, so lets get on with the next chapter of Resurgence.**

* * *

Harry stood in front of the tent, in which the other Champions were waiting. Crouch and Bagman were supposed to be telling them what the task was supposed to be. Sighing to himself, he walked into the tent.

Fleur was sitting in a corner on a low wooden stool. She did not look nearly as cheerful as usual, but rather pale and clammy. Harry cast a single glance at her before moving away towards an empty seat. Viktor Krum looked even surlier than usual, which Harry supposed was his way of showing nerves. Cedric was pacing up and down. When Harry entered, Cedric gave him a small smile, which Harry returned, feeling the muscles in his face working rather hard, as though they had forgotten how to do it.

"Harry!" said Bagman happily, looking around at him. "Come in, come in, and make yourself at home!" Harry wondered if the man was inwardly a despicable sadist, what with the way he was wearing his old Quidditch robes, talking to people as if fighting a dragon was like standing in line outside Fortescue for ice cream.

"Well, now we're all here — time to fill you in!" said Bagman brightly. "When the audience has assembled, I'm going to be offering each of you this bag" — he held up a small sack of purple silk and shook it at them — "from which you will each select a small model of the thing you are about to face! There are different varieties, you see, and I have to tell you something else too... ah, yes! Your task is to _collect the golden egg_!"

Harry glanced around. Cedric had nodded once, to show that he understood Bagman's words, and then started pacing around the tent again; he looked slightly green. Fleur and Krum had not reacted at all.

 _Half the champions know and half apparently don't! How all-true-istic of the judges!_

In no time at all, hundreds upon hundreds of pairs of feet could be heard passing the tent, their owners talking excitedly, laughing, and joking. He wondered if they would laugh if they too had to face a living breathing dragon. Then — it seemed like about a second later to Harry — Bagman was opening the neck of the purple silk sack.

"Ladies first," he said, offering it to Fleur. She put a shaking hand inside the bag and drew out a tiny, perfect model of a dragon — a Welsh Green. It had the number three around its neck. Fleur sighed with resignation. Madame Maxime had told her what was coming.

The same held true for Krum. He pulled out the scarlet Chinese Fireball. It had a number two around its neck. He did not even blink, just sat back down and stared at the ground.

Cedric put his hand into the bag, and out came the blueish-gray Swedish Short-Snout, the number one tied around its neck. Knowing what was left; Harry put his hand into the silk bag and pulled out the Hungarian Horntail, and the number four. It stretched its wings as he looked down at it, and bared its minuscule fangs.

 _Just like last time, but there is no way I am risking my Firebolt again!_

"How are you so cheerful, Potter?" Cedric asked, who was shivering and anxious.

"I applied a cheering charm on myself!" Harry sarcastically replied. The things was, Cedric actually believed it and went ahead, casting one on himself too. As the bell rang, an over-enthusiastic Cedric, much to Harry's amusement and others' surprise, ran head-on into the ring, ready to defeat the great dragon and win the task.

"I did not think he would take it at face value." He muttered, causing Krum to snort loudly. Fleur threw an evil glance at him but Harry demonstrated casual indifference, irking her, if the frown on her face was any indication.

 _Let us see how it is to be on the receiving end of indifference._

The bell rang again, and he heard some rushing of the healers and helpers, who carried away a half-burnt Cedric to the makeshift Hospital wing set up close to the ring. A series of Oooh's and Aaah's pervaded the crowd and many other sorrowful exclamations followed them. Apparently, Cedric had failed to collect the egg and the dragon had used him as a chew toy, from what it sounded.

 _Guess I wasn't there to inform him first hand._

The second bell rang, and Krum left for his chance. Just like the previous time, he used a borderline dark rupturing curse to blind the dragon. He collected the egg but the enraged dragon broke some of its own eggs in the process. Harry winced at that. A dragon's egg would have been lovely.

 _When did I start thinking like Hagrid?_

Fleur had applied the 'Somnium' enchantment, using her Veela powers and her skills to doze the dragon off to sleep. It was the same as the last time, and she had come out of the entire thing unfazed. Madam Pomfrey offered some medical help but she denied. Veela had outstanding rejuvenation abilities anyway.

* * *

The bell rang and Harry knew it was his chance. He shifted open the flap of the tent and walked outside. He saw everything in front of him as though it was a very highly colored dream. There were hundreds and hundreds of faces staring down at him from the conjured stands. Then there was the Horntail, at the other end of the enclosure, crouched low over her clutch of eggs, her wings half-furled, her evil, yellow eyes upon him, a monstrous, scaly, black lizard, thrashing her spiked tail, leaving yard-long gouge marks in the hard ground. The crowd was making a great deal of noise, but whether friendly or not, Harry did not know or care. It was time to do what he had to do.

 _Just like the last time, no change at all. Well, better get the job done. No point complaining. Besides, I wanted to give a show in the first place. Now where is the damn egg again?_

He looked all over the ring, but only the rocky terrain and the fearsome dragon was all that came to his sight. Then he spotted it. The dragon was standing over the golden egg, which was fallen right next to the bunch of original dragon-eggs. Harry snorted; the organizers could not even place the egg properly.

 _Let's get going._

"AND THE TIME STARTS... NOW!" Bagman roared.

 _Show time..._

Whipping his wand out, he conjured a couple of wolves near the dragon, bound it and disillusioned himself. Wolves being a natural enemy of dragons, the enraged beast leapt towards the conjured animals, leaving the golden egg free and unprotected. Just as it pounced upon the bound creatures, Harry made himself visible and thumped his palm over the ground, yelling...

 _"Potens in terra, et quasi catenulas... vincula terrae..."_

The ancient elemental spell rose into effect, as humongous shackles arose from the surface, binding the dragon completely. The dragon roared and tried to evade the ever-increasing bindings on itself, but the more it tried to fight, the more the shackles tightened around it. Finding no escape, it relented and let out a deep groan of pain and resignation.

Harry breathed heavily. The ancient spell did take up a lot of energy. The last time he had performed it, he had fallen unconscious for two days owing to magical exhaustion. He had used the same spell while ravaging the Headquarters of the Inferno Corporation. The heavily fortified building had collapsed into itself.

"That took a lot of power...," he panted.

 _The egg..._

He walked towards the egg, and held it up, showing it to the now perplexed and dumbfounded crowd, who were completely stupefied at what had happened. The fourteen-year-old Harry Potter had just held a dragon bound and defeated. It was unfathomable.

"Ladies and gentle-wizards, what a spectacular feat! Our youngest champion has finished the task in the shortest time, using never-seen-before magic. Yes, Harry Potter has just tamed a dragon!"

* * *

Harry let the spell go and the dragon sagged down to the ground as the dragon-tamers began to enclose it from all sides, sending stunners at it, trying to subdue it completely. He turned back, held the egg in one hand and began walking towards the tent. Just as expected, he had won the task without any issues at all. Daphne was just too paranoid, after all-

"BOMBARDA MAXIMA!"

Harry whirled around, his wand in his hand and a shield spell on his lips; ready to counterattack whoever this new opponent might be. To his surprise, the spell was not meant for him. What was odder was the fact that a seventh year Ravenclaw had cast the spell. The spell hit the stockade where the other dragons were kept chained. The walls blasted off with a heavy noise as the enraged beasts realized that they were free and let out a primal roar. Almost immediately, the protective wards that had been set all around the ring activated, enclosing the entire ring and the dragons inside it. Everyone outside was safe, well temporarily at least but the wards could hold the beasts for some time, enough for the spectators to escape. Only one minor problem remained- Harry Potter was stuck inside the ring with the four enraged beasts.

 _Damn! Why did I have to tempt the gods of irony? You are screwed, Potter!_

The mighty beasts spread their humongous wings and tried to fly up, only to be thrown back by the force of the spell protecting the ward. The four Headmasters and the dragon tamers had worked for ten days to create the powerful barrier. Now, the same barrier was the reason why the fourth champion was facing four great, angry and vicious dragons.

His eyes darted to one end of the stadium, where Daphne could be seen banging her hands on the barrier and trying to blast it open repeatedly by firing explosive spells. The spells hit the barrier and exploded on the surface, only to see the spell fail dismally in its purpose. The barrier glowed with an ethereal sheen as the ward stood at full power. The spectators were shrieking and yelling, a lot of them already running away from the stadium. On another end, the dragon tamers, professors and Dumbledore were actively trying to break the barrier down.

 _Okay, Potter, time to see what you can actually do._

The four dragons, enraged at their failure in trying to escape, gave their frustrations one single escape- the one human standing on the ground. The four beasts hurled out gigantic bursts of dragon fire—one of the deadliest things in the world, second only to Fiendfyre at Harry who extended out his hands and concentrated.

"Imprimis Patrocinor."

A solid navy blue shield manifested in front of him, shielding his entire body against the swirling flames, which burnt everything in their way. It was his strongest shield, one that could actually hold against Fiendfyre, although the shield had one major drawback—the energy requirement for it was massive. Most wizards could not even cast it at all. The Fidelius was considered the most taxing spell by most, and not everyone could cast it. The Patrocinor took at least thrice as much energy as a Fidelius.

The deadly flames splashed against the sturdy shield, which still held, a testament to its power. The dragons raged at the futility of their attacks and flapped their massive wings angrily. The Short Snout snapped and leapt towards Harry only to hit the rocky terrain as he used the power of the Hallows to pop away, only to appear somewhere on the middle of it all.

"Ignis flagellum maxima."

The top of his wand extended to form an eight-inch thick fire whip as he threw it towards the short snout. The whip bound the beast by its mouth and stopped it from belching out flames once again.

 _There take it._

All that his actions did was to enrage the beast even further. It pulled back its head, and finding resistance, leapt over the opposite edge.

 _Fuck!_

Holding on to the wand, Harry flew across to the other end of the ring and fell on top of a scaly surface. Opening his eyes, he found himself looking into the eyes of a very angry Chinese Fireball.

 _I am totally screwed!_

The dragon roared and belched out a thick shower of flames towards him, which if not for his immediate popping away, could have vaporized him off. Harry reappeared in the centre of the ring and raised both of his hands upwards. His knees had been bruised by the trashing around and were almost about to give out. By the pain of it, a couple of bones might have been broken too.

"I did not want to do this, but you left me with no choice."

He concentrated his entire magical power onto his palms as he yelled out to the heavens...

"FIENDFYRE!"

* * *

Outside the powerful barrier, the professors, the dragon-tamers and the curse breakers specially employed for the tournament were doing their best to bring the shield down. The problem was, the shield was meant to hold things in, not stop people from entering into it. The common idea was that no one in the right mind would want to go inside the barrier when there were enraged dragons inside it. The problem was- no one had anticipated such a thing to happen.

The seventh-year Ravenclaw, one Michael Warrington had been quickly stunned and arrested by the Aurors. The moment everything broke loose, it triggered the barrier and the shield rose automatically, sealing the dragons in. The organizers had never anticipated that a contestant would also be stuck inside.

Daphne had tried to curse the barrier to next-week but without any effect. The outer proximity ward and shield had broken, making it possible for her to get in. The moment she had realized it, she had been ready to jump in, and would have jumped if not for a timely stunner by Blaise who was just behind her. Daphne fell on the ground with a thud, before Blaise, Tracy and Theo picked her up. Half of the spectators had already ran away, leaving the Head of DMLE, the professors and the Headmasters and a few more people including the Champions remaining. All of them were working on one single focus in mind- deactivate the barrier without it detonating.

They watched horrified as the four dragons belched flames towards the Potter boy only to gape in shock as the boy raised up a shield very few had heard, forget having seen. Dumbledore instantly realized what it was, and could only look in awe as the sturdy shield held, saving the boy from being vaporized by the deadly flames. They saw the boy vanish away using something akin to Apparation but could not fathom what it is. One thing was clear. Harry Potter was not what he pretended to be.

The curse-breakers had almost deactivated a small narrow part of the entire barrier, making a hole large enough for Harry to make it out, but not for the dragons to break out it. They gave the signal, and Dumbledore was just going to supply some of his raw power to activate the process when the unfathomable happened.

The boy vanished again, appeared in the centre of the ring, and raised his hands upwards, crying out to the heavens. FIENDFYRE!

* * *

Harry felt his entire magical core erupt out and felt the viscous flow of magic through his nerves as his palms heated and turned blood red, the top now emanating a deep crimson sheen. With a sudden propulsion of energy, massive flames surged out of it towards the heavens. The flames looked like pillars of deadly fire, which formed convolutions and a variety of forms. Somewhere near the apex of the rising flames, a dome of fire manifested itself from which sprang out a multitude of offshoots, manifesting themselves into fiery projections of basilisks, phoenixes and dragons. The actual dragons realized the sudden turn of events and belched out more flames, trying to combat the most deadly substance in the mortal world.

It was an inexplicable vision. A rocky terrain, isolated from the rest of the world by an unnaturally powerful barrier. Inside the dome, stood four dragons at the periphery while in the center stood one fourteen-year old boy with his hands towards the heavens, as eldritch energies flowed out of his palm in rivets, surging upwards towards a much smaller dome of fire from which the ethereal fiery beasts were being manifested. The dragons belched out their own fire as Fiendfyre met dragon fire head-on producing a multitude of lights and sounds. If one could hear closely, they would have heard the dragons groan in pain as the hellfire burned their magic-resistant skin, causing them agony as they lost control of the ongoing battle. Soon, all upsurges of dragon fire ceased down as the Fiendfyre rose up for its final offensive.

"HARRY!"

He looked out of the ring to find Dumbledore yelling from the outside. "WE ARE OPENING A BREACH. APPARATE OUT." The old man yelled again as Harry nodded in answer. He closed his eyes and expanded his senses, the Fiendfyre doing a good enough job for the moment and found the tiny breach in the mammoth dome. Concentrating on the tiny fissure, he popped out, not wanting to take any chances as the humongous barrier rose again and obliterated the tiny fissure, making the dome impenetrable once again.

"Huh! That was something new!" Harry muttered to himself, as he dropped down on the ground, losing himself to unconsciousness.

* * *

Harry's eyes snapped awake. The first thing he recognized was a white circular ceiling. The walls were whitewashed and it seemed the world around him was white all over. Feeling a bit overwhelmed, he immediately closed them again, groaning. His limbs were sore, his head was pounding vigorously and everything seemed excessively bright. Opening his eyes again, he found himself in what looked to be a meadow. Confused, he tried to sit up; the pounding in his head increased making him dizzy. Clutching his head, he laid back down, squeezed his eyes shut as he waited for the feeling to pass.

As he began to feel a bit normal, he opened his eyes again and took in his surroundings: the door standing at the far end as well as the way the white meadow seemed to end abruptly reminded him where he was. The other beds beside him also came into focus. With this realization, the memories of the past came back.

He blankly looked at the other side only to find striking icy blue eyes staring back at him in fear and anxiety. "Harry?" he heard her voice, it wasn't the one he had heard so many years ago. Then it struck him.

The face came into focus as he observed the raven hair, the blue eyes, and the angelic face of Daphne Greengrass peering at him, her cheeks now wet with tears flowing over them. "Harry, are you all right?"

"Yeah!" He was unable to say anything more as the girl smashed herself into him, her soft lips kissing him as if her life depended on it. Kissing her back, he slowly moved his hand to hold her. She drew back after a while, and then asked, "How are you now?"

"A bit better." Harry grinned, making her grin in return. "I am sorry. You were right, I was wrong. I got carried away by my arrogance and got beaten down by hubris." Daphne looked understandably at him and kissed him again, making a shit-eating grin form on his face.

"You know, for someone so cold and stoic like the Ice Queen, you are being quite an extrovert when it comes to showing your affections." Daphne scowled and hit him softly on the shoulder, before smiling. "I blame you."

"Of course."

"How long was I out?"

"Four hours."

"Back off lovebirds!" Madam Pomfrey's voice ascended from the background. Daphne blushed and looked embarrassed as she backed away, leaving him to Pomfrey's admonitions. "And you Potter," Pomfrey began, "you just can't stay away from the Hospital wing, can you?"

"Madam Pomfrey, you have to agree. It wasn't my fault this time." Harry returned, portraying the expression of a very sorry pupil. Poppy rolled her eyes as she muttered... "First trolls, then three-headed dogs, then Dementors and now dragons. What are they going to bring next?" Harry smirked as he laid back on the bed, allowing the mediwitch to administer her medicines and check his health.

"Your magic is now normal. You overused quite a lot of your magic resulting in exhaustion. You are forbidden to use magic for the day. Understood?"

Harry gulped and nodded. "Yes, Madam Pomfrey." Dark lord he may be, but the mediwitch had this thing in her tone that always scared the crap out of him.

* * *

The couple retired themselves back in the Room of Requirement. The Room had created a comfortable bed for him to rest while she sat beside him, circling his arm with her thumb. For some reason, Harry found it immensely comforting.

"What were you saying about hubris, there in the Hospital wing?" Daphne asked suddenly. Harry turned over towards her and held her hand tightly. "I was the most powerful wizard for too long, Daph. The inferno Corp. was powerful, but was because of their technology. Magically, their numbers and fighters were average at the most. Moreover, after I receded away for almost a year, studying and preparing myself for the inevitable battle, I gained a lot of knowledge and skill. When I surfaced, I single-handedly destroyed most contingents. That was when the Inferno Corp. began to work in 'hit-and run' tactics, busying me elsewhere while trying to kill my supporters. I guess I grew arrogant since there was no real witch or wizard to challenge me. When I came back here, I was able to easily kill the death eaters at the World Cup, something that I could never have managed in my early years."

Daphne nodded. "My father cast my uncle out of the family when he decided to join the dark lord's army. He and father had a fierce battle, which ended with the death of my grandfather. My father became the new Head of the family and cast my uncle out after that."

"That is why you were so carefree about me killing him."

Daphne looked at him with something like steel in her eyes. "He killed my grandfather. He deserved to die. Father was beyond happy that someone had avenged Grandpa's death." She looked at him sharply. "I was so afraid when you were alone facing the dragons. I thought—I thought you were going to die." She hugged him once again, as if fearing for her own life.

Harry hugged her back. The warm feeling that exuded by holding her seemed right. Perhaps it was because he had held a woman this close after ages. Perhaps it was because he finally had someone else in his life. Perhaps this was because he once again had someone to live up for in his life.

"Daph..."

"Shhh... don't say anything." She kept on hugging him tightly. Harry smiled, as his hands tightened around her. The couple just lay there, silent as their feelings saturated the room. All of a sudden, a flash of fire distracted them, and they sat up. Fawkes had arrived and was circling over their heads, a tiny parchment stuck to her claws.

"Sometimes I really hate the old man's timing." Harry muttered as Daphne smirked at him. He grabbed the parchment off and read it. It was a missive from the old man, asking him to meet with him in his office. Daphne looked at the letter and remarked. "I will go with you."

"You sure?"

Daphne nodded in affirmation.

* * *

The pair reached the Headmaster's office and stood in front of the gargoyle. "Cockroach cluster." Harry stated amusedly, as the gargoyle jumped away, allowing them access to the circular staircase behind it. The headmaster and his obsession with sweets, Harry mused with amusement.

"Ah, come in Harry, Miss Greengrass." Dumbledore called out, as the duo reached closer to the main office door. Opening it, the pair walked into the circular room as the Headmaster offered them seats. "How are you, Harry?"

"I have been better." Harry shrugged, "was there anything you wanted to talk about, sir?"

Dumbledore crossed his hands and rested his chin on his fingers. "Indeed I did, but what I wanted to talk about is quite... private. Miss Greengrass being here-"

"She stays. I trust her." Harry deadpanned, ending the argument. Daphne slid her hand into his and held it tightly. Dumbledore mused for a moment before answering. "Very well. I wanted to talk about your performance during the Task."

"The very task in which I had to face four dragons instead of one, right after I face my own dragon?" Harry inquired, making Dumbledore wince. Clearly, the boy was quite angry at the whole affair. "Yes and my apologies for having to deal with that inconvenience."

Daphne almost snorted. Only Dumbledore would call such a life-threatening incident as an 'inconvenience'. She spoke up, unable to help herself. "No offence Professor, but it wasn't just a. 'inconvenience', as you pointed it out. In fact, it was a very potent threat upon his life."

"Indeed, Indeed, and I am quite sorry. However, what I wanted to know is how you managed to display such powerful magic during the task. As far as I know, you are not taught how to summon Fiendfyre in your syllabus. In fact, I can pretty much assure you that anything beyond the mere concept of Fiendfyre is not even in the school library.

"Not even in the restricted section?" Daphne almost sneered.

"Not even in the restricted section. Then again, it wasn't the only peculiar display out there yesterday. You cast an ancient elemental spell, almost unseen and unheard and cast it near perfection. I have never even heard anyone cast such a powerful spell on a dragon of all things and subdue it properly. In fact, I assure you I myself have never heard of the spell."

Harry felt the shock plastered on Daphne's face as she turned towards him. He felt Dumbledore's passive Legilimency briefly trying to scan his mindscape.

"Anything else, Headmaster?"

"Yes. I would also like to know how you managed to apparate when the dragons attacked you. Knowing that the anti-Apparation wards of Hogwarts were not triggered by any means, I believe we can safely assume that what you did was not Apparation."

Harry did not reply.

Dumbledore sat up straight. "You know Harry, if not for the wards outside the office identifying you by blood and magic as Harry Potter, I would have thought that you are not Harry Potter at all. So that brings us to the main question." Dumbledore looked sharply at him, his blue eyes focusing on the young man sitting opposite him. "How did you manage to learn such arcane magic?"

Harry weighed the situation. The fact that Dumbledore had questions about his knowledge was expected; what was not however, was his statement about the wards of the office. If what Dumbledore said were true, then...

"I would like a question of mine answered honestly Headmaster, and I would like an oath to know that it is true."

Dumbledore considered it. "What kind of question."

Harry sat up straight on the table. "The Champions of the Triwizard are legible to use any form of magic to battle the tasks. I am an emancipated head of my family. In the legal court, any kind of question on my knowledge of magic can be passed off as family magic. I assume you already know it."

Dumbledore looked at him sharply, not saying anything.

"That said, there is no legal way in which you are allowed to inquire about my knowledge of magic, and yet, here we are. I can tell you my source, if you answer one simple question, of course, followed by an oath to justify the truth.

Dumbledore weighed the situation thoroughly. The boy's facts were cold and quite an outrage, but that did not make them any less true. "Very well. I swear on my magic that I will answer your _next_ question truthfully, to the best of my knowledge."

 _Very Slytherin, Headmaster. Very Slytherin._

Harry smirked. "You said that you knew that I was Harry Potter by magic and blood because the wards told you that. When did you install such wards and where are they located?"

Dumbledore looked confused. "I do not understand how-"

"Please just answer the question, Headmaster. You just swore an oath." Harry returned heatedly. Dumbledore decided to let the issue off and answered. "The wards are in front of my office door and expand ten meters outward from there. It covers my entire office. I installed them two days after your name came out of the Triwizard Tournament."

 _Hmm... Perhaps that is something the Dumbledore of my world had not done. Else, he would have known that Moody was an imposter._

"Thank you, Headmaster."

"Now, my answer if you will." Dumbledore urged. Harry smirked and swore, "I swear on my magic that the arcane magic that I, Harry James Potter learnt and demonstrated _at the first task_ of the Triwizard tournament was learnt from the hidden archives in the Chamber of Secrets."

Daphne caught the wording and smirked inwardly. This was what she absolutely loved about Potter. He might have been a Gryffindor, but that did not deter him from being the consummate Slytherin where it mattered. He had answered Dumbledore's question truthfully while limiting the answer to exactly how much was necessary. It was just perfect, neither overdone nor underdone.

"I see... I did not think you would want to return back to the Chamber, after the incident of your second year."

"Oh I did not, Headmaster. In fact, the only time I returned there was after I returned to school this very year." Harry smirked internally. It was true. While he had come back and fused with his younger self in the third year, he had not entered the Chamber until October. He continued, "-and I have quite solid reasons for going back there."

"May I ask what those reasons are?"

"You may."

Dumbledore waited for a moment, before the literal meaning of Harry's answer hit him. "Oh, what _is_ the reason behind going there?"

Harry looked at him amused and answered, "To visit my inheritance." His right fist was still on the table and he gave a pointed look at the Headmaster, willing him to look at his fist. A large signet ring with a green capstone with a basilisk engraved on it materialized on his finger.

"The-Slytherin lord—ship!" Dumbledore stammered uncharacteristically. "You are the heir of Slytherin?"

"No Headmaster, I am the true lord of Slytherin now. And as Lord Slytherin and one-fourth owner of the lands and properties of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, I want to invoke the treaty of Diagon."

Dumbledore blanched. He had heard of the treaty, It was the one made by the four founders and he object was to make sure that the sitting Headmaster did not do anything to injure their person or family in return of relinquishing their control over Hogwarts' land and properties. By invoking the treaty, Harry had made himself nigh untouchable as far as Dumbledore was concerned. The air felt saturated with magic as the ancient power took effect, binding the Headmaster as per as the laws of the ancient edifice.

"Was that really necessary, Harry? I do not have any wish to harm your person anyway." Dumbledore returned sadly. Harry simply sat up with a poker face. "That may be, Headmaster, but as Lord Slytherin, I prefer to be precautious than suffer later. It goes without saying that you cannot reveal my status as Lord Slytherin until I do it myself, Headmaster."

Dumbledore could not help but nod. The young man had just played him in his own game.

 _Very well done, Harry._

"Now that we are settled, Headmaster. I believe I have a concern. A concern raised by a student to his Headmaster."

Dumbledore sat up interested. "I am all ears."

* * *

 **### Annnnnnd finally done! I had written some 2000 words and then suddenly lost the muse midway. A couple of hours ago, it returned back again after all this time ,and I am back. Well hopefully that was a good chapter and you all enjoyed it. Please review.**

 **Now I will use this moment to answer some more of the questions posed to me in reviews.**

 **# Is Harry an animagus? Duh! In the very first chapter, he transformed into a golden eagle.**

 **# Did Harry laugh at Daphne's monologue because it was nearly similar to Harry's own in GOF? Umm.. maybe OR MAYBE NOT. We will just think that Harry's monologue never happened during the GOF.**

 **# Wasn't Daphne's Legilimency against détente? No. The détente agreement simply says that they cannot cause harm to each other's person and cannot oppose each other in situations where it mattered. Else the Wizarding world would simply be full of people having détente with each other, and there would be no violence. BAM! Old man Dumbledore would be so proud!**

 **# Am I going to start any more? Not really. I am thinking of starting my own story while continuing with these stories. if it is any worth, I believe Resurgence will be the first of my stories to be finished.**

 **# That was very abrupt? Well maybe. But you have to consider it from Harry's situation. harry is both a man in his late thirties as well as a 14-year old boy. When the two souls merged, the resultant is the Harry we see. A fusion between a trigger-happy Dark lord (as seen in the earlier chapters) and a 14-year old boy who never had anyone to call his own. The older man had lost the only woman he had loved and yet found the same woman to become something different. And then there is Daphne, and that brings a lot of flubberworms to the point. I hope you get my point.**

 **(to be observed) Yes, harry is now with Daphne but it doesn't mean that he has forgotten Fleur. He still holds feelings for her (demonstrated by at least 2 incidents in this chapter alone.)**


	19. Chapter 19 :Beasts and Fire

The pair had just another round of dueling in the Room of Requirement, with Daphne getting faster and better with each duel, and Harry getting to reacquaint himself with his 'muscle memory'. He might have had an exorbitant amount of knowledge in spells, but that was in his previous life. This body, no matter how young or fit, simply wasn't it. That was exactly why he had spent his entire summer rediscovering his powers and abilities. After almost six months in this new body, Harry was sure he could reattempt his second animagus form. While he had shifted into his eagle form the very night he had fused with his younger self in the forest, it had been quite some days until the discomforts had left him.

"Daph! I am going to attempt my animagus transformation."

Daphne glanced at him, surprised. "You are an animagus? Bah! Why am I even surprised?" Harry looked at her amused, and returned. "I have two forms." Ignoring the stupefied look on his girl's face, he continued, "I have tried the first one before. Look."

The familiar feeling returned. His features shifted, his body sprouted feathers as his face elongated into a sharp beak and a narrow head. His hands extended out as feathers and newer bones began forming. With a little whimper, he sat down, the whimper transforming into a squawk as he shifted perfectly.

The entire thing took three seconds. Where Harry Potter stood previously, now perched a golden eagle. A golden eagle with green eyes. The predatory bird gave her a sharp look before squawking out as it extended its wings out, flying up all across the room. The Room automatically expanded itself to give the illusion of a green field as the eagle dived and soared up and down multiple times, before circling around Daphne twice and slowing down, transforming as it dived down, and in perfect coordination, it transformed into Harry as he put his legs on the floor.

There was one problem though.

"Eeeeek! Harry! You are-" Daphne turned red and palmed her face, whirling back almost instantly. Harry looked down and turned red. It seemed his body was still not conditioned that well as he thought it was. He had performed the transformation flawlessly but his clothes had not transfigured back, and thus he was standing in his birthday suit in all his glory.

"UH!" he uttered articulately, almost immediately waving his hand and conjuring a jeans-shirt pair. Putting them on, he looked at his still embarrassed girlfriend. "Daph, I am covered. You can look."

"You sure?" came her voice, a bit different because of her face being palmed.

"Completely."

"Okay."

Daphne turned back at him, not being able to meet his eyes out of embarrassment. Her cheeks were still pink, her mind still not successful in keeping out the memory of the sight. Harry had a well-built body, his muscles... Daph turned red again.

"Reminiscing are we? If you want, I could give you another show." Harry taunted as she blushed again. "I am going to attempt my second form." Understanding her horrified expression, he continued, "I won't transform back in front of you." He clarified. With a nod, Daphne affirmed.

"Here goes nothing..." and he transformed.

His legs shrunk at first, as he felt his muscles tear apart as his bones seemed to bulge out. His entire vertebral column bent on its own, the pain almost killing him as his new muscles and tendons grew up amazingly fast. His face expanded and the sharp fangs erupted on either side of his face. A long tail extended out of his hip as his body was covered in thick black fur. Where initially stood Harry Potter, now stood a large, menacing black lion with glowing green eyes.

Daphne was actually intimidated by the imposing and menacing creature that stood in front of her, the bright green eyes amidst the jet-black fur actually enhancing the frightening persona of the exquisite creature in front of her eyes.

"Haunting!" She said as she blinked. "I cannot get the picture of your bright eyes out of my mind. It kind of sticks in..." The lion bared its fangs for a moment, making Daphne reach out for her wand almost instantly, taking a few steps back. To her surprise, the lion morphed back into Harry Potter (luckily still in his pants this time, the shirt was gone though) grinning madly.

"You absolute prat! What kind of sick amusement do you get by scaring the shit out of me?" She yelled, throwing off a stinging curse at him, which he dodged, the shit-eating grin still stuck to his face. "Come now, don't be a spoilsport. It was fun."

"I will show you fun!" Daphne returned, as she sent another quick succession of spells.

* * *

Fleur Delacour shifted listlessly on her bed. Ever since last day's events involving the dragons, she had not been able to have one moment of peace since the grave incident. The rumors about the Triwizard tournament were all too familiar to all. However, knowing the history of the 'death-toll' of the tournament, and actually seeing something like that were completely different things. Last time a single cockatrice had got loose and set off on a killing spree. However, this time, it was not a cockatrice. It was something much more dangerous. Dragons, and that too, Four.

She did not need to reminisce of the event. The memory had replayed itself again and again in her mind. She had faced her dragon, her enchanting skills and her Veela powers were successful in drifting it off to sleep. She had collected her egg and achieved a good '44' in her task, marking her as the top so far. Then, Harry Potter happened.

Potter (Harry, she could not help but think it like that) had just walked in, transfigured a couple of wolves and disillusioned himself. While disillusionment was a pretty good achievement for a fourteen-year-old, it was nothing spectacular. The dragon had pounced on the wolves as expected, and she half-expected Potter to run and try to acquire the egg.

Then he had gone and thrust his palm onto the ground. Fleur's Veela sensors had been on full alert and she sensed what the (no longer just a) fourteen-year-old had done. He had sent a foray of powerful, controlled wandless magic into the ground and summoned something insanely powerful.

Then it began. Humongous shackles erupted out of the ground, binding the dragon totally and subduing it. It was clear that the shackles were much more than normal chains; what with the way, they continued to bind the dragon tighter. The more the dragon tried to break out, the stronger the hold was. The scene sent her mind back, to something similar which she had seen months away... almost in a half-forgotten dream.

 _The stranger whipped his wand and a black light shone out of it, materializing into thick iron chains. The chains began erupting several iron spikes, crushing and impaling the bound death-eaters, killing them almost instantly. The iron spikes then vanished off, leaving the mutilated and wounded dead bodies, which fell unceremoniously on the ground._

 _Could it be...?_

Her mind went back to the first task. The fourteen-year-old Harry Potter had used an elemental spell and subdued the dragon. That itself was a glowing testament to his magical strength while yelling to the heavens that his magical spell repertoire was hardly limited to his age and class. Fleur had realized that while she might have been one of the original champions, this was someone who was leagues ahead of her, both magically as well in knowledge of spell repertoire; and the best thing- he did not even want to participate in the tournament.

 _I guess I was wrong about him initially._

 _But he insulted your dreams. He trashed the prestige of the tournament._ A side of her whispered in her ear.

 _It also shows that he does not care for glory. He has been glorified since birth, he is powerful enough to win the tournament, and yet he did not want to participate. That speaks volumes about his character._ Another side of her insisted.

Fleur shifted in her bed, her thoughts making a mess in her mind.

Her mind went back to the event. The odd-looking boy had stood up and fired the blasting curse, destroying the stockade and the dragons had been freed. She had watched with horrified eyes as the Dragon-tamers had left all caution to the wind and jumped out of the ring as the large powerful barrier erupted out from all sides forming a large dome, enclosing the dragons and Harry Potter inside the ring entirely. She had simply accepted that the boy, no young man was going to die. One dragon was one thing, but four dragons and no escape path was simply a recipe for death. The bloody history and death toll of the tournament suddenly became much more real and horrifying to her.

Then the inexplicable had happened. The four dragons, enraged at the enclosure, had settled for belching a wave of flames towards Harry. Then, the boy had gone up and cast _the_ shield.

The shield. _Imprimis Patrocinor._ The most powerful shield on earth. It was no coincidence that the shield was known as Mage shield; as the requirement for the shield was excessively higher than what a witch or a wizard could ever produce. Her father had once tried to cast it, only to fail dismally and fall into magical exhaustion after some five minutes of trial. It had taken him five days to get himself out of bed and walking again.

Now the fourteen-year-old had not only cast it successfully but also used it to defend himself against dragon fire. Moreover, just after that, he had apparated in an apparation-proof zone multiple times.

Fleur took a deep breath. Harry Potter had then cast Fiendfyre. Cast, not summoned. He cast Fiendfyre, and used it effectively to defeat the dragons and subdue them all. Fleur's mind went back to one lesson she had with her dad during one of their sessions on learning her family magic.

 **FLASHBACK**

"Isn't there any kind of flame spell Papa, one that I could use with my Veela powers?"

Sebastian looked at her amused. "Why would you want that? You can throw fireballs anyway." Fleur gave him a petulant look and continued, "yes but I wanted to see what happens when I amplify a flame spell using my Veela magic. I was wondering if our library contains any powerful flame spells."

Sebastian gave her an odd look. "A flame spell is an elemental spell. Like all elemental spells, it has a modern form and an ancient form. The modern form is what you know as Incendio or what you call as the simple flame spell. On using suffixes like forte or maxima, and pushing our power through the spell, we can use the spell much more effectively. However, the ancient forms of such spells are banned from usage."

"Why so, Papa?"

"It is because of the esoteric form of the spell. Among all elemental spells, the ancient form of the flame spell is the only one still seen in the wizarding world, and more than often, by dark lords and the like."

"I suppose it is very destructive?"

Sebastian laughed. "I could use a modern spell to cause widespread destruction. No my dear, the ancient flame spell, also known as Fiendfyre, is famous among dark wizards because of the esoteric component required for its successful summoning or casting."

"Fiendfyre!" Fleur muttered, and Sebastian smirked. Fleur held her wand tightly and repeated, "Fiendfyre!"

Nothing happened.

Sebastian laughed. "My flower, you can repeat the word for the rest of your life and keep shoving energy through your wand until you are blue in the face, but I repeat, you will not be able to cast it."

"Why?"

Sebastian stood up and walked towards the window. Looking outside, he remarked. "Students of the Dark Arts know that some spells, most notably the Killing Curse and the Cruciatus Curse require that the caster truly _hates_ someone. It need not be the person targeted by the spell when it is actually cast; but the wizard must have _someone_ who he truly hates enough to see dead or tortured respectively, for either spell to be successfully cast on any target. Such an emotion is inadequate for Fiendfyre, however. It is one of the few spells for which the spell's name and its effect are synonymous- there is almost no danger of accidentally casting it due to its rare and difficult esoteric requirements. It is not enough to hate someone or something to cast Fiendfyre. The wizard must hate someone or something so much that _any amount of collateral damage is acceptable_ if it means destroying the object of his hatred. It means that the wizard would be happy to _die himself_ if he can only see the object of his hatred be annihilated first. Of course, the wizard doesn't need to die to cast Fiendfyre, only be _willing_ to do so."

He turned back at his daughter who stood pale, hearing and understanding what her father was telling her. "Tell me, my flower. Can you truly want something destroyed so much, that you are ready to let the world burn, only if it meant that your opponent is destroyed?"

"No, Papa."

"Even for those who are desperate enough to use the spell, all they do is essentially summon the spell. It is essentially summoning flames from the pit of Hell itself. Once summoned, the flames will not stop until it has destroyed everything in its path. It takes a legendary mage to actually cast the spell."

"Cast?"

"Yes, Cast and not summon. Summoning simply means that you call in the flames. There is no guarantee that the spell might work even against you. However..." he perused over one of the older manuscripts in his family library. "There was a powerful mage who lived a thousand years ago, who was believed to be powerful enough to actually cast Fiendfyre." He turned the page towards her.

The picture showed a person in gray robes. He was holding his hands upwards towards heaven as ambient energies seemed to flow out of his palms, and form a small sphere of fire above him. Huge torrents of Fiendfyre were flowing out of the ball, forming basilisks, phoenixes and dragons all around, but none of them harming the mage in the centre, he stood almost as if he had none to fear.

"This is what it means to truly cast Fiendfyre. Most people believe it is impossible to cast it, whereas the researchers believe that a successful amount of control over the fires is equivalent to casting it. This manuscript however, provides some more details."

Fleur preened at the tiny lines written beneath the diagram.

" _ **Qui ambulat in duos invicti**_ _ **."**_

"What does it mean, Papa?"

Sebastian looked solemn as he answered. _"No spell can touch the one who walks in both worlds!"_

"What does that mean?"

"I don't know." He confessed.

"Who is this mage?" she questioned.

"A legend notorious in British Wizarding history. Originally known as Serwyl Peverell, he later changed his name when he established his own family. This, my child, is the mage everyone knows and fears as Salazar Slytherin."

 **END OF FLASHBACK**

Harry Potter had just cast Fiendfyre. Just like Salazar Slytherin- Serwyl Peverell. Peverell... The man at the World Cup had said that his name was Peverell. Could that mean-

"Fleur!"

Fleur's eyes shot open as she heard the very familiar voice from the doorway. There at the door, an amused expression on his face stood Sebastian Delacour.

* * *

Amelia Bones was going through Hell. First, a seventh-year Ravenclaw, one Michael Warrington had stupidly cast an exploding charm that had endangered the lives of everyone at the Triwizard event. The boy was taken in custody and interrogated by Shacklebolt. He had found nothing.

The boy's eyes were cloudy and fazed, which could only mean one single thing—someone had put the boy under the Imperius curse and made him fire the spell. It simply brought the entire situation to a completely new level of flubberworms.

There was someone hiding in Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry with a grudge against Harry Potter. One who did not even care that his doing could potentially turn the event into a social relations massacre. It was a good thing that the barrier had worked like a charm and enclosed the dragons before they shot free completely.

Then, Harry Potter had gone off and summoned Fiendfyre. How that boy had managed to do the unfathomable was beyond her. Of course, the elemental earth spell was new to her, but she had attributed it to family magic. How had the boy controlled Fiendfyre? It simply raised a completely new vault of questions. First an unidentified potential killer at the loose, and now a fourteen-year-old summoning Fiendfyre- not to mention a third person hiding in plain sight with evil intentions against Harry Potter.

Amelia decided that at the end of this wretched tournament, she would take a yearlong holiday. Caribbean seemed to be a good place.

* * *

Lucius Malfoy entered the Greengrass Manor through the Floo. Cyrus Greengrass had been a raw pain in his arse since October, and he believed that now was the time to finally end his problems for one and for all. The Greengrass-Malfoy contract was ironclad and the rules were clear. Three hundred galleons plus a duel with the Champion of Malfoy's choice. Knowing that Malfoy was the de-facto leader of the Dark families, there was no one who would fight for Greengrass.

Yet, by some chance, Cyrus had found someone to waste his life for his cause. Who the duelist was, Lucius had no idea. However, it did not really matter. After all, his champion was not going to lose anyway. What was one more death among friends?

"Lucius Malfoy, finally you are here."

Malfoy scowled inwardly as he saw Cyrus sitting on the couch. Forcing a fake smile on his face, he walked towards the man. "I suppose it is time for our imminent duel."

"True. I was wondering if you would postpone it once again."

Malfoy's lips twitched. The balls of the man... He simply smiled at Cyrus and sat on the couch. "My champion is Igor Karkaroff. You have heard of him, I hope. Present Headmaster of Durmstrang institute and an accomplished master of the dark arts."

Cyrus simply nodded, not giving any of the reactions Lucius had been expecting.

"My champion is Harry Potter, current Head of House Potter."

 _What?_

"You have a fourteen-year-old as a Champion? I never thought Cyrus Greengrass as such a coward to hide behind a fourteen-year-old boy."

"Are you talking about the same fourteen-year-old boy who used ancient spells and subdued not one, but four great dragons simultaneously?"

Lucius gritted his teeth. This was complicating the issue. Potter was a wild card. Extremely unpredictable and importantly, insanely powerful if the first task was any indication."

"The duel is tomorrow. Let me know when the time is. I will let you know where the place is. Sound good?"

Lucius gritted his teeth. Suddenly his day was not going so well. "Yes, it is."

"Farewell Lucius." Cyrus greeted him as the Malfoy lord left through the Floo.

* * *

 **### Another short chapter. But it fit the bill. the next chapter is going to be another of the long ones, you know the ones which rise to the 6000- word count. Just wanted to pull out certain facts before another important segment begins. Enjoy. And of course, reviews please.**

 **Also, the concept of Fiendfyre is extracted from "Harry Potter and the secret enemy' by The Sinister Man. My favorite author, and in fact, the reason I borrowed it from his story is because the explanation is simply 'perfect'.**


	20. Chapter 20 : Duel to the Death

**November 26** **th** **, 1994.**

The Great Hall of Hogwarts was overflowing with all kinds of peculiar noises as the students from the three schools were being served breakfast together. The Beauxbatons students had sat on the Ravenclaw table while some of them had also moved to the Hufflepuff ones. The Durmstrang students had monopolized over the Slytherin table, much to the arrogant smile that Malfoy was wearing, as he busied himself with irritating Victor Krum with all kinds of questions. On the Gryffindor table, Ron Weasley sat with his mates Seamus and Dean, and were busy discussing whatnot about the oncoming Quidditch season, with Ron giving pointed looks at Harry who was sitting with Neville at one end of the table. Hermione seemed to have decided to ignore Harry until he gave up the lost cause and confessed that he had been cheating all along. Not that Harry noticed, for he was more than happy to ignore her. It had all resulted in making Granger much more reclusive than she originally was. Her high-strung behavior did not help matters either.

Albus Dumbledore stood up from his throne and addressed the audience. "Now that we are all watered and fed, it is time that I make a few notices about the oncoming events, which I am sure you all were waiting for." His declaration met with a huge round of cheers as excited whispers grew from all the four tables.

Dumbledore cleared his voice, making the hall go silent again. "Now the dueling event will officially begin from the 1st of December, that is, five days from now. The rules are thus- every school is going to have twelve participants, making thirty-six contestants for the main event. Now, listen carefully as I explain the selection process for Hogwarts."

He took a dramatic pause. "Each of the four houses shall have their own inter-house tournaments, supervised and presided by their respective Head of House. Every House will select three contestants by the screening process, which will have to be done within one week. Those twelve participants will contest under the Hogwarts banner. Durmstrang and Beauxbatons will have their own screening processes, and their High Master and Headmistress will explain those to them personally." The students cheered again at the news, while the Durmstrang students smirked. Durmstrang had always been dedicated to dueling, and they could help but anticipate the chance of handing the arses of the other schools to them.

Harry and Daphne gave each other a subtle glance as they smiled, each reminding the other of their 'duels'. It would indeed be a fun contesting. He glanced at Neville and found him looking down on his plate. The boy's wand was surprisingly in his hand as he tried repeatedly to cast some spell. Deciding that he had dilly-dallied long enough, Harry decided to take things in his hands. He never noticed that gray owl bringing a letter to his girlfriend as he busied himself talking to Neville.

* * *

"Hey Neville!"

The two of them were in the Gryffindor common room, sitting and talking to each other.

"Yeah Harry?"

"You want to participate in the dueling contest?"

Neville looked up embarrassed, his face reddened and for the first time in this timeline, Harry found himself facing an angry Neville Longbottom. "I know I am pathetic, Harry. I do not need you of all people to point that out."

"NO! You misunderstand me Nev," Harry raised his hands in surrender, "-I was not making fun of you. I simply wanted to know if you wanted to practice with me. You know, for the contest."

Neville looked at him skeptically. "You are good enough on your own. I watched you during the task Harry. You subdued a damned dragon. You would win even if you don't practice." His tone was filled with harsh skepticism. Harry gave him a sad smile and answered, "You are right Nev, but that does not cancel the fact that you are my friend. Do _you_ want me to help you?"

Neville looked down with sheer disappointment etched on his face. "I am pathetic, Harry. This wand, my father's wand, I cannot even cast a simple charm out of it properly. How can I even think of participating in the contest? I am no better than a squib."

Harry looked inscrutably at him, deciding the best way to reveal information to the boy. "Neville, you yourself said it that I am much more advanced for my age, correct?"

Neville nodded subtly, eyeing him carefully. Harry continued, "I have a theory I would like to test with you." He whipped his wand out and conjured a feather. Neville looked at him blankly.

"You are not going to have me relearn everything from the start, are you?"

"Yes, Neville. That is exactly what I intend to do. Put your wand away."

"Harry, I-"

"Put your wand away Neville."

Neville put his wand back in his robes without a word. Sighing, he looked at him. "What now?" Harry levitated the feather and dropped it on Neville's open palm. "Look at this feather. Watch it, feel it."

Neville nodded, feeling the texture of the feather in his palm.

"Now, close your eyes."

"Harry what-"

"Just do what I said Nev."

Deciding to play along, he closed his eyes. Harry circled around him, whispering close to his ears. "Now imagine that you are holding a wand. Think that your palm is your wand. You have seen the spells fly out of wands, correct?"

Neville nodded, his eyes still closed.

"Feel that energy in you. Let it saturate you. Allow it to reach your palm."

Neville fell silent. His energy hummed, happy to be finally allowed an outlet better than the incompatible wand. Harry could see the boy's aura rising, as his magic responded to his call.

"Now, levitate the feather."

The feather shot up by eight feet.

"Stop. Let it levitate where it is. Let your magic support it from falling."

The feather stopped, and remained there, still at eight feet above his palm.

"Now, open your eyes."

Neville opened his eyes, and to his shock, the feather was not there in his palm. Harry smiled brightly at him and urged, "Look above, Nev."

* * *

A couple of hours later, Harry found himself walking towards the Room of Requirement. So many things had changed, he mused. He had come into the past timeline, with just one intention in mind- killing Voldemort quickly and importantly, saving Fleur. Now though...

Daphne had come into his life. He had changed his foe into a friend and now, a partner in all things. Yes, he still had feelings for Fleur—it was downright impossible to completely forget her and commit himself to Daphne's affections. The talk with Theo and then _the_ _big surprise_...it had completely changed his outlook towards life. Daphne had certainly been downright shocked when he had later kissed her.

He smiled. Nostalgia had a way with him. Standing in front of the room, he entered it and found his girl sitting on the couch. She saw him enter and stood up, striding towards him and giving him an affectionate hug.

"How are you?"

She just pressed herself closer, as if trying to hug him for her life's worth. She drew back and looked at him in the eye. "The final missive for the duel has arrived."

"When is it?"

"Tomorrow morning."

"Malfoy's champion?"

"Igor Karkaroff, the Drum-"

"Durmstrang High Master."

Daphne gave a solemn look at him. "He is an accomplished master of the Dark arts. I don't know what I should feel about this..."

Harry just smirked. For the first time, he felt amused by the happenings of fate. Igor Karkaroff had escaped his hands the previous time, and had met his death in a Fiendfyre that had consumed Neville.

 _Not this time... this time I will get to kill the bastard personally._

"Where is the duel?"

"My father has asked for your choice in the matter. Considering it is you who is fighting for us. The place is ours to say, while the time is theirs."

"Interesting. In that case, I choose Godric Hollow."

Daphne raised her eyes. "Godric's Hollow? But isn't that where-"

"Yes. The Death eater will die in the same place that caused his fall the first time."

"In your time, in the—the future?"

Harry nodded,

"Very well. I will send the message to my father." She hugged him again, "please make sure that you are fine."

Harry smiled.

 _I will._

* * *

 **POTTER CHAMPIONS FOR GREENGRASS FAMILY! ANCIENT HONOR DUEL AT GODRIC 'S HOLLOW!**

 **We at the Daily prophet were completely flummoxed to know that an honor duel is going to be held between the families of Malfoy and Greengrass this very day at Godric's Hollow. A duel that has resulted because of the buyout of an age-old contract that existed between the two Houses. As per as the contract, the eldest daughter of the Greengrass family had to be wed to the eldest son of the Malfoys. Ever since the creation of the contract, this is the only time when the Greengrass family has an older daughter, namely one Daphne Greengrass—Slytherin fourth year, and at the same time, the Malfoy family has Draco Malfoy as its eldest and only scion. As per the wording of the contract, the betrothal must be completed successfully before either of them turn seventeen.**

 **The interesting thing however is that the Greengrass family has settled for the activation of the buyout clause of the contract- a monetary sum of three hundred thousand galleons shall be funded to the Malfoy family while the ancient Greengrass manor that has had been held as Malfoy property all these years will have to be returned back. At the same time, the two families will need to settle the dispute with an honor duel. Only if the Greengrass family wins, will the contract be broken successfully. There is an interesting twist though, dear readers- the champion for the Greengrass must not be a member of or married into the family. That is exactly what has resulted into one of the most sensational news of the year.**

 **Harry James Potter, the Boy-who-lived and presently the fourth Triwizard Champion, has agreed to be the Champion for the Greengrass family, while Igor Karkaroff—ex-death eater and present High Master of Durmstrang Institute, has agreed to be the Malfoy's Champion. Harry Potter has been recently seen a lot in the company with the elder Greengrass and is believed to be romantically involved with her. Is this some kind of mysterious plot employed by the Slytherin girl to use the fame of the Boy-who-lived into getting her out of the contract? Is this some kind of twisted attempt on the Boy-who-lived's life? Only today's duel will tell.**

 **The venue has been decided to be Godric's hollow- the same place where the boy-who-lived vanquished the dark lord You-know-who all those years ago. Will today's duel also gain another win for him? Will the duel-to-the-death simply end Harry Potter's life at the very place it had originated?**

The paper had caused chaos-total, absolute, uncontrolled chaos. Malfoy had stormed up to Potter in the morning, asking him to pull his name off from the duel, surprisingly aided by Weasley (requesting him not to help the slimy Slytherin). Hermione had scoffed and muttered loudly about how it was another hair-brained attempt that would endanger his life. Ever since the first task, the reaction of the whole school had drastically changed regarding him. The Gryffindors had been eager to embrace him back and enjoy his glory... the Ravenclaws had become silent and frustrated at the fact that the spells he had used were way too powerful even for the brightest of them. The Slytherins had grown wary of him and his power, and had decided that enraging him might not be the best idea. Blaise, Theo and Tracy had an amiable relationship with him just as usual with Theo and Blaise often teaming up against him, trying to make him reveal just how he performed such dazzling magic. Never mind the fact that their attempts were dismally unfruitful, the three boys had formed a quick bond among each other. As for the Hufflepuffs, the fact that he had simply outperformed Cedric, not to mention that Cedric himself had failed dismally in the task himself. The amount of bashing had stumped down to low levels, with only some peculiar students like Malfoy and Zacharias Smith being the only one left who refused to listen to sense.

"Harry, what exactly are you doing?"

Harry turned back to see the young Longbottom looking tersely at him; his new wand held tightly in his palm. After the last day's session, the LongBottom boy had finally understood what was wrong. Harry had all but carried him to Mcgonagall's office and made Neville demonstrate the entire thing again. The fact that the boy was capable of wandless magic, and yet could not use a wand properly, simply did not make sense. Two hours later, Neville could be seen coming out of Ollivander's shop, a new cherry and dragon heartstring wand in hand-one that was continuously erupting sparks as the normally subdued boy bubbled with excitement.

Harry looked at him and considered his words. Neville was not here to complain why he had stood with Daphne's family—he was too open-minded for that.

"I am doing what is right. Besides, that was what the contract was about."

"A contract which you signed on your own terms." Neville skeptically pointed it out at him. Harry sighed in resignation. "Don't worry Neville, I will be all right."

"Harry, this will be a duel to the death. To win, you will have to kill Karkaroff. He will try his best to kill you too."

"Simple, isn't it? No pretentions and-"

"Stop it Potter. Do you think this is a joke? You think this-" Neville raged, completely shaken by the casual way his friend was dealing with such an issue. His wand erupted sparks, emanating the same surge of emotions as its owner.

"Is that your new wand?"

Neville looked blank for a moment; the sudden change of topic caught him off-guard. "Yes, why?"

"Looks good on you. How does your magic feel now?"

Neville looked uncertain. "Good. I can actually do the spells. However, my spells are a bit overpowered now. Professor Mcgonagall says that it is because I am accustomed to overpowering them, trying to shove my magic through an incompatible wand all this time."

"You do understand that it was my idea that got you a compatible wand?"

Neville looked flustered. "I know that, but why are you-"

"Neville," Harry's voice turned cold. "I have decided that I will be taking this wand away from you. You will have to suffice with your father's wand. Give it to me." He extended his palm towards the other boy.

Neville felt a cluster of emotions bottleneck inside him. Why would Harry ever do this? After being a squib for ages, he finally had his own magic answering his call. Yes, Harry had helped him get the wand, but-

"No!"

"Excuse me?" Harry narrowed his eyes, making them look like slits. His voice suddenly went all cold and menacing. Neville shuddered under his cold glare but refused to hand it over.

"No, I will not hand my wand over to you."

"Why? It is just a wand." Harry posed sarcastically.

"It is not just a wand, damn it. It is my freedom. My magic's freedom."

"The contract is stealing away Daphne's freedom too, Neville."

"WHAT?"

"Yes." Harry confessed, his tone returning to being tranquil once again. "If I do not fight for her, she will be enslaved to Malfoy's will for life. Tell me, am I wrong?"

Neville looked at him for a moment, his eyes glancing back at his precious wand and then back to his friend's green eyes... "You are right. Give him hell, Harry." Nobody noticed how Harry almost froze hearing the words from the Longbottom boy.

* * *

After the breakfast was over, Harry received a missive from the Headmaster, asking him to meet him urgently in his office. Smirking at the most expected behavior, Harry left off for the Headmaster's office. It wasn't as if he cared about the classes anyway.

"Ah, Harry, come in, please." Came the Headmaster's voice as soon as he knocked on the door. Opening it, he entered into the circular room.

It was crowded. Beside the headmaster's chair, Mcgonagall, Moody and Flitwick stood—the anxious expressions giving away their moods immediately. On the other side, Madam Maxime and Igor Karkaroff stood. The former holding a serious expression on her face while the latter completely enraged, to put it politely. Karkaroff was positively frothing in anger.

"Boy, what is the meaning of this?" Igor roared the moment he saw Potter enter the Room.

"Good morning to you too, Death eater." Harry greeted with a false cheer in his voice. His eyes narrowed as he looked around. "What? Are all of you going to try stop me from entering the duel?"

"We just want to know why you agreed to such a thing in the first place." Dumbledore expressed from his seat. Harry sighed. "I am going to say this once and for all. Daphne Greengrass is my girlfriend. I am also contractually obligated to be her Champion for this duel—a contract I may add-" he continued with a raised voice as he saw the Headmaster try to interrupt, "—I made with my complete discretion. If our prestigious Durmstrang High master over there-", he pointed towards Karkaroff who bristled in fury, "-withdraws his own name from the duel, it will simply end all the problems."

"Surely you are not thinking that you, a filthy fourteen-year-old can kill me?" Karkaroff frothed.

"This filthy fourteen-year-old destroyed your old Master when he was a toddler." Moody intervened, his gruff voice taking everyone by surprise. "What?" Moody shrugged. "I support the boy."

Harry gave him a slight nod of gratitude, before turning back to Igor. "As you yourself said, I pose no chance against you. Where is the problem then? This is an honor duel. If you kill me, there will be no prosecution. Just think- you can get away with the murder of the Boy-who-lived! Your old Master would be so happy!" he concluded cheerfully, clapping his hands in fake delight. Moody snorted while Mcgonagall and Flitwick beamed at him in disbelief.

"Harry!" Dumbledore tried. "I know you have trained yourself exceptionally well. However, does it have to end like this? Think about what your parents would have wanted?"

"THEY WOULD HAVE WANTED TO LIVE, HEADMASTER!" Harry thundered, the others getting silent as they watched the Boy-who-lived in fury. "They would have wanted to live and see me grow up in their presence, but they couldn't, because of people like THIS son of a bitch!" Karkaroff's face grew red as he flitted between fury and fright. "But they didn't. Did they? They died, and I had to suffer. Now, the same thing is happening to Daphne. The contract will take away her independence. She will become a slave to Malfoy. Her entire life, her future will be destroyed, and all because of this thrice-damned contract! I cannot change my own life but I will be damned if I let her life be destroyed."

Something silvery flowed down Dumbledore's eyes, hidden well by the half-moon glasses on his face. "Harry, I am sorry but-"

"NO, YOU ARE NOT!" Harry roared-his magic raging out with his emotions as the instruments on the table vibrated dangerously. "You stood there, let Grindelwald ride out at the expense of so many deaths. Only when it was already too late, you responded back. I lost my fucking great-grandfather to Grindelwald. You, the great Albus Dumbledore let Voldemort become what he became. I lost my parents and grandparents to that bastard. I am _NOT_ going to lose Daphne to your inaction again, Headmaster. Second Chances do not matter; the dead do not matter- only the living and the future matters."

With that final statement, he turned coldly towards Karkaroff and whispered menacingly. "Have your last meal, Death eater. You surely aren't going to get any when I send your arse to hell." Saying so, he banged the door open and darted off.

"Dumbledore, you surely cannot stand this injust-" Karkaroff frothed, but Moody beat him to it. "Oh shut up you bastard, that boy is going to hand your arse to you. I will be damned if I don't get front seats." The old ex-Auror let out a gruff laugh, as he prodded out of the Room.

* * *

 **Four hours later, at Godric's Hollow.**

A makeshift dueling ring had been transfigured as Amelia Bones, The Minister of Magic, Albus Dumbledore and many other esteemed members of Britain's Ministry stood anticipating the most sensational duel of the decade. Since an honor duel invoked principles of ancient laws, it was mandatory for people like the Chief Warlock, the Minister and the DMLE Head to be present. They had to maintain that all rules be followed to the T. The others had simply come because after all, the boy-who-lived was fighting to the death. That itself was enough for throngs of people to come to the place, just to witness the history that was being created.

The centre ring had been created and on either side, two tents had been drawn up. The Greengrass and the Malfoy family held either of them. Surrounding the ring, benches had been conjured and set up, allowing the numerous people to sit and witness the historical duel that was soon to follow. A duel to the death- it meant that by the end of the day, one of the participants would be lost forever. Who that unfortunate soul was, remained the subject of intense speculation.

Inside the Greengrass tent, Harry was sitting calmly. Daphne sat on his lap, hugging him tightly, and her emotions flitting almost every moment. One moment, she was hopeful that harry would win—the next moment she was completely hysterical that he would die. Then again, her mind suggested that she should agree to the contract. She would become a slave, but harry would live. She also played with the idea of leaving her family; at least Harry would be safe.

"Harry, I don't want this to happen. Cancel the fight." She wailed hysterically, causing him to hug her again and let her cry. "Nothing will happen." He promised, his fingers rubbing her back softly in round circles, caressing her. Cyrus Greengrass stood solemnly, his eyes wide in admiration at the boy who had taken the daunting task upon his shoulders. He knew that the boy was powerful, much more than himself even—but that did not negate the fact that he was taking a big risk.

"Mr. Potter, you have no idea how grateful I am for what you are doing for us. We will forever be in your debt." He shook the young man's hand gratefully, who simply returned his acknowledgement with a smile. "I am doing it for her." Harry conferred.

Cyrus smiled. "My daughter's affections are more than clear to see, Mister Potter. Perhaps sometime later in the near future, we can sit and decide on the issue. After all, I want to see my daughter happy."

Harry smirked. "You are mightily confident that I will win."

"I am."

* * *

Amidst a shower of excited whispers and shouts, the two contestants took to opposite sides of the dueling ring. Harry observed his surroundings. The higher-up authorities from the ministry of Magic were there, including one man in a hood. Harry's sharp eyesight recognized the hood and the insignia almost immediately.

 _Unspeakables. I just hope they do not interfere in the fight._

His eyes studied the crowd. People from all over Magical Britain had come, including students. Even Victor Krum and some of Durmstrang students had arrived. There was Fleur too, and... Is that Sebastian Delacour? The fierce-looking intimidating man had never been at even with Harry in his past lifetime, and for a moment he wondered why the man was here of all places. This bore thinking about.

Karkaroff stood at the other end of the ring, a sneer fixed on his face. His wand lay tightly held in his right hand like a baton. Harry let his wand slip out of the holster, sliding easily into his palm, and twirled it in his fingers. An over casual appearance to fool one's enemies.

Sebastian Delacour observed the young man carefully. The animagus form of a hawk had given the man fabulous eyesight and extremely sharp reflexes. He could see the casual way the boy held his wand. An obvious deception, when he could simply cast a shield with one single stroke at nary a thought.

 _Such a cunning young man! He is simply playing with Karkaroff._

Cornelius fudge stood up and held his wand upwards. His wand shot up a crimson jet as he yelled, "BEGIN!"

* * *

The audience got their first flair of shock with the first spell collision. Karkaroff has fired a dark spear, which Harry had intercepted with a bombarding curse. The two spells had collided with a resounding gong—the sound reverberating through the entire arena. Igor had sent dark severing hexes in complete succession, despite the fact that the smoke was hiding the true location of the Buy-who-lived. Out of the smoke, a shining thestral Patronus galloped out, catching him by surprise. The immense light of the ethereal creature blinded his eyes as the two exploding hexes that went in quick succession caught the man off-guard. Only a hastily drawn shield protected him. However, the delay had produced a weak shield, as a result—the collision had sent him back by a couple of feet. Getting up, he roared in fury as he saw Potter standing and smirking at him-his wand still twirling in his palm. Affronted at the atrocity of the situation, he let out a ferocious yell and hurled out dark spears, fireballs and blasting spells at full power. Harry stood his ground and waited for the spells to reach him, much to everyone's shock.

"Why isn't he doing anything to stop it?" Cyrus wondered aloud. Daphne just smirked as she saw her tutor demonstrate one of his newest techniques out in public.

"Don't worry Father, Harry is completely in control."

Cyrus glanced at her daughter, and observed the serene look on his daughter's face. He figured that she knew her 'tutor' much better anyway.

The spells kept coming closer, closer, and just at the last moment, Harry thrust his wand forward like a sword and slashed it in an anticlockwise arc.

"Imprimis Patrocinor."

* * *

Sebastian Delacour watched with awe as he witnessed the mage shield manifest into reality. The azure blue coloration that formed in the air formed two runes as a magical metal shield, almost eight feet in diameter, materialized behind them. The runes glowed and stuck to the shield, letting out strange energies, which seeped out from the sides of the shield. The spells converged and hit the sturdy shield—the powerful reverberation sending out shock waves in every direction. Just as the mage shield was believed to be, the shield held back the incoming barge without a single scratch on the surface- yelling out to the heavens that its creator was a legendary mage of a kind.

"Extraordinary! Extraordinary!" he whispered reverentially. The thought that the powers of the legendary mages of old had resurfaced, it practically sent shudders of excitement down his spine.

Karkaroff stood in awe as the fourteen-year-old demonstrated that fantastic shield which had completely held off his attack, without so much as a scratch. Infuriated at the thought that a boy was getting the better of him, he slashed his wand forward as he yelled to the heavens.

"OCCIDERE TENEBRARUM!"

The battle of powerful magicks had just begun.

* * *

Amelia Bones watched in awe as the highly magnificent battle had just raised a bar. Karkaroff had got truly enraged and had finally resorted to using his true spell repertoire. It was almost funny how the Durmstrang High Master was casting forbidden magicks in the heart of Great Britain and in presence of Ministry Heads, and yet he was free from any kind of prosecution.

She saw the dark ball hurl out of Karkaroff's wand and form a powerful black lasso, one that screamed deadly power. Karkaroff wielded the lasso towards his opponent, smirking as he did. The spell, which was essentially a touch of death-was one of the most powerful spells in his repertoire. One single touch and the victim would die instantly. It was like using a more effective killing curse, except that this one took much more magical power to cast.

Karkaroff hurled one end of the lasso towards Harry who simply dodged it, somersaulting in the air and then hitting the ground with his wand. A flash of energy flooded into the earth and the rocks erupted where Karkaroff stood, causing him to get misbalanced and fall down. The lasso remained attached to his wand though.

Karkaroff tried to get up but multiple fireballs and exploding hexes sent his way stopped him from gaining his balance and standing up straight. He had to be content with rolling and dodging over the ground, not being able to use the lasso again. Eventually he got his chance, and rolled over the ground, apparating away and returning back to the ground, standing and panting. Harry flicked his wand towards his opponent and raised the pebbles on the ground—one single flick and hey all changed into steel spikes, and one forward hurl made them shoot for Karkaroff, who simply yelped and apparated again.

He appeared behind Harry and hurled the lasso at him again, missing the boy by mere inches as Harry conjured a marble slab to intercept its path. The lasso tore through the marble but that instant; Harry dodged it and sent a shower of water towards Karkaroff, drenching him completely.

"Glacius Maximus!"

The entire rocky terrain froze into ice as Karkaroff found his legs bound in the thick ice. Cancelling the Lasso spell, he sent off a couple of fire spells on the ground, dissipating the ice completely.

"Stop playing, boy!" he frothed. "Stop playing with me for I am going to kill you." He thrust his wand towards Harry and yelled, "Avada Kedavra!"

Everyone drew their breaths in as they watched the cold menacing green jet of light shoot towards the boy-who-lived who simply stood his ground. Just at the last moment, he bent his body left, allowing the curse to pass him, avoiding his body very narrowly. Karkaroff stood aghast, watching in shock as the boy had simply dodged his killing curse at the last moment.

"Aruspices expellere!" he yelled, throwing out the entrails-expelling curse repeatedly at the boy. He had been casting spells since long and was feeling the loss of his magic slowly. He had to end it quick. Harry raised his wand and waved it in a clockwise arc with a straight shove at the end.

"AUCTA VI CLYPEUM!"

An immensely large wave of light emanated out of his wand as the wide-area deflector manifested in front of him. The incoming spell was deflected away upwards as the expanding protective dome converged it back towards Karkaroff who seemed to stare at it in shock. Just at the last moment, he decided to lose his restrain and let out what would remain forever his last spell ever cast.

"FIENDFYRE!"

* * *

Harry saw Karkaroff wave his wand and perform the familiar motion. It was something he had often seen Lord Voldemort perform during his many battles with him. Knowing he had to act quickly, he hissed "Moitas Espadas" as a dozen sharp swords materialized before him. A single flick of the wand, and the swords used the current of the wide-area deflector and shot at full speed towards Karkaroff. The swords pummeled into his dying body but not before Karkaroff shot out his last spell.

He had literally summoned Hell on the grounds of Godric's hollow.

 _No..._

* * *

The crowds watched with fear and fascination at what could be termed as one of the most legendary duels in the history of Magical Britain. The whispers comparing the ongoing duel to the likes of the legendary battle between Dumbledore and Grindelwald were already high among the audience.

They watched as Karkaroff raised the bar and the more deadly magicks ushered into the battle. They were dazzled at the brilliance and the power of the Boy-who-lived, and watched in awe as the young boy deflected the power spells and performed complex transfigurations with effortless ease. Dumbledore had a smile on his face when Harry had conjured steel spikes with nary but a thought, and he could not but feel proud at the ingenuity and potential that his student had. For a moment, his hopes for a threat-free future visualized before his eyes.

That was before Karkaroff went mad and cast the killing curse.

The crowd watched with disbelief as the boy-who-lived simply dodged the killing curse at the last moment and brilliantly deflected the deadly entrails-expeller back to Karkaroff. They had even decided that Karkaroff had met his end when the steel swords shot out at the man, aiming for his gut.

Their increasing sense of anticipation suddenly drowned as Karkaroff shot out his last spell, wreaking havoc to Godric's Hollow.

Hell had come to godric's Hollow. Flames-angry, crimson, and glowing with deadly eldritch power, flames as uncontrollable as the raw magicks as old were rumored to be; flames so deadly that they could burn down dragons and phoenixes; flames that were supposedly summoned from the pits of Hell itself- such flames now rained down Godric's Hollow.

As Karkaroff drew his last breath, one could see his eyes lit up with a sick pleasure, knowing that he had wreak havoc on Great Britain. A Fiendfyre when summoned and then left uncontrolled—only meant one single thing.

Devastation. Clean, simple devastation.

The flames of Hell did not like to be summoned into mortal realms, and once summoned, did not stop until they had burned everything on their path. Unfortunately, someone had summoned them inside a ring surrounded by throngs of people. It was a veritable feast, and the flames plunged into the art of devastation.

* * *

Harry watched in shock as the Fiendfyre became uncontrolled and spread out rapidly in all directions. If let lose, it would ravage Godric's Hollow- not an option. Besides, there were simply too many people inside the village. The ancient wards did not allow anyone to apparate out.

In short, they were all confined in a raging, enclosed Hell.

He saw Daphne and her father try to defend themselves from the deadly heat of the flames; saw Dumbledore and everyone else try to control the untamable wrath of Fiendfyre, and fail dismally. He knew he had to act, and that there was only one thing that he could do to stop it.

 _Fight fire with fire._

He cast a wandless Sonorous on himself and yelled out to everyone. "SILENCE!" Everyone stopped on their tracks and turned at the fearsome wizard. Harry continued, "Everyone conjure granite walls all around the ring. I will handle the flames." Almost automatically, everyone obeyed his command and begun conjuring granite walls as per as their own magical prowess. Those like Dumbledore and Mcgonagall, conjured yards of thick granite barrier, while the others simply managed to create a few meters of granite slab.

Harry closed his eyes.

 _Three._

 _Two._

 _One._

He held his hands upwards, and yelled out to the heavens.

"FIENDFYRE!"

* * *

Sebastian Delacour watched with morbid fascination and awe as the young mage lifted his hand up, the motion being so eerily similar to the one he had read. Weird energies flooded out of his palms, materializing into a glowing ball of yellow flames from which huge flaming towers erupted out. Basilisks, Chimeras, Lions, manticores, dragons and all kinds of infernal creatures of fire shot out of the towering flames and attacked the uncontrolled Fiendfyre. Fire met fire. An overwhelming force had met its match against another overwhelming force.

The deadly battle continued between the raw primal fury of uncontrolled Hellfire and the successfully cast Fiendfyre controlled by the young mage who stood in the middle, almost oblivious to the happenings all around him. The primal rage was obscenely powerful at first, but Harry's stubbornness and his will proved more than a match against it. The two fires fought against each other, the ethereal fiery beasts destroying each other, emanating powerful bursts of light and energy.

After what seemed like an infinite amount of time, the wild fire slowly lost its will and converged into Harry's Fiendfyre, neutralizing each other completely. The entire ground was razed and almost half liquefied at the surface, and there at the middle, the green eyes of the mage glowed brightly before they shut abruptly as Harry surrendered himself to oblivion.

* * *

 **### A long chapter including the duel scene as promised. Do let me know if the duel was to your liking. As always, reviews please, everyone.**

 **### A personal notice to the 'more intellectual' readers, the ones who read a couple of chapters and then try to shove their personal opinion and insults in a façade of reviews; I just have one thing to say... Bub! Just don't. Don't waste your time typing a useless review and I wont need to waste my time frowning and having to reply back uselessly as well. Sounds good right?**

 **Just because a couple of ideas seems cliché to you... doesn't mean that you know what the story entails. Stop being fucking hypocrites and just enjoy the story as it comes. If you really want something completely original, read original works. Don't waste yours and other's time on Fanfiction unnecessarily.**

 **### To my other readers, I cannot explain how wonderful it feels to know that people love and admire my work. I assure you all that I take due time and read and try to understand every single review, correction, praise and criticism that my precious readers leave behind so thoughtfully. Thank you everyone.**


	21. Chapter 21 : Revelations

_The deadly battle continued between the raw primal fury of uncontrolled Hellfire and the successfully cast Fiendfyre controlled by the young mage who stood in the middle, almost oblivious to the happenings all around him. The primal rage was obscenely powerful at first, but Harry's stubbornness and his will proved more than a match against it. The two fires fought against each other, the ethereal fiery beasts destroying each other, emanating powerful bursts of light and energy._

 _After what seemed like an infinite amount of time, the wild fire slowly lost its will and converged into Harry's Fiendfyre, neutralizing each other completely. The entire ground was razed and almost half-liquefied at the surface, and there at the middle, the green eyes of the mage glowed brightly before they shut abruptly as Harry surrendered himself to oblivion._

* * *

He opened his eyes. The memories swam fresh on his mind, as the familiarity of the surroundings impressed itself to his consciousness. The same desolate road, the curved way, the rocky precipice, the broken bridge and the river-

"It seems an eternity since we last met, and yet it was only a few months by your mortal world."

Harry whirled back, somewhat surprised to find the shadowy cloaked figure stand behind him. Now that he had met this entity twice, he could see him close, without any awe. On close observation, the entity did not seem as shadowy as the previous time. The dark shadow that pervaded his presence was now distinct as the fluttering of a silvery, black cloak-something very much similar to the one he once had. The entity no longer seemed like a Dementor; rather it was now looking very much like a human being, albeit one whom the fluttering cloak effectively shadowed.

"Who are you?" Harry could not help but ask.

"You know who I am." The disembodied voice replied from beyond the murky layers of the cloak. Harry looked at him skeptically. "I know you are Death, or rather some form of essence of Death. You are wearing a cloak just like the one I had not very long ago, and you look like a human just like me-I cannot help but wonder if there is more to you than what meets the eye."

The entity chuckled and returned, "You are more intelligent than most wizard spawn, Harry Potter. Yes, there is more to me than this shadowy cloak. I believe it is time I come clear with you." He held up his hands, and Harry was surprised to see the pale skin beneath the hood. He lifted up the folds of the cloak, and smirked back at the shocked face of Harry Potter.

Green, powerfully bright, emerald green eyes stared at Harry's own. The eyes, the ears, the nose, the face... even the hair, though it was quite differently combed than Harry's own...

"You are... Me?"

* * *

Madam Pomfrey was simply having a bad day. First, the Potter boy had to, just had to stand and duel to the death against Igor Karkaroff. It was a good thing that the brat won, or else Poppy was sure that she would figure out a way to bring him back from the dead and give him a nice thrashing. She even had a few choice words ready for the occasion. The good thing however, was that Karkaroff had been defeated and killed, but unfortunately, (or perhaps most expectedly) the boy had succumbed to unconsciousness and was now lying on the Hospital bed.

The problem was- he was stuck inside some form of magical coma, and none of the spells or potions were working on him. She had initially thought that he had become magically exhausted once again, and two consecutive exhaustions might have taken a toll on him-but she was wrong. Despite having used up quite an amount of magic, his core was still far from exhaustion. It was inexplicable in its own right, but then again, nobody in living memory had a magical index above 700. The only one to do so had been the little boy who rose to become the most feared dark lord of Great Britain. Lord Voldemort.

Something was indeed wrong with the boy- his vitals were proper, his magical core already self-healing since he had been brought here, there were no injuries to his person and he had not been seen to be hit by any dark spell. No remains of dark curses that could be traced on him were there. It only meant one thing.

The boy was stuck inside his own mind—stuck in some kind of dream. She had no idea how to bring him back.

 _The boy will be the death of me!_

The office door knocked, and she strode forward to open it. Knowing the precociousness of teenagers, she had warded the doors personally so that the usual unlocking charms would not work on it. The doors to the Hospital wing would have to be opened the old-fashioned way- by mundane way.

Sebastian Delacour, Albus Dumbledore, Minerva Mcgonagall, Cyrus Greengrass and Alastor Moody stood outside the door. Poppy glanced at the expressions on their faces and understood their predicament. However, she could not understand why someone like Sebastian Delacour- father of another Triwizard Champion would be so interested in her patient.

"Yes?"

"Has he recovered, Poppy?" Dumbledore urged. Pomfrey shook her head and denied. "No change yet. All vitals are working properly, but he is in some kind of magical coma, if I had to wager a guess."

"Do you think he should be transferred to Saint Mungo's or perhaps the ICW Health Unit?" Sebastian urged. The others looked at him oddly. The Lord Delacour had a major standing at the ICW, almost parallel to Dumbledore in authority, though why he was so interested in the young Potter seemed to puzzle everyone else.

"I suppose I should let my daughter know about his condition." Cyrus muttered, before walking away. Poppy looked back at the rest of them and confessed. "I am not sure what Saint Mungo's could do in such a case. His body is completely healthy, and so is his core. He did not yet suffer from exhaustion."

"WHAT?"

Everyone glanced towards Mcgonagall who had suddenly exclaimed out her disbelief. Flustered at the sudden gaze from everyone, she returned, "He did perform some dazzling magic and then controlled the Fiendfyre of all things. I am just surprised that he was not exhausted."

Dumbledore apparently had caught something between the lines and urged, "Poppy, what exactly is Harry's MPI?"

Poppy swallowed. She knew that as school matron, she was liable to answer any direct question posed by the Headmaster. Then again, she had promised the young boy to keep the fact a secret. Faced by a sudden dilemma, she looked back and forth before she spoke out, "it is high. Quite high. Higher than yours, but I cannot tell you the exact value since Harry made me swear that I keep it secret. I hope you will not force me to break my oath."

Dumbledore seemed to ponder over the question before nodding and consenting, causing a sudden smirk on Sebastian's face. If his hunch was correct, then a mage had just returned to the mortal world. The first mage in centuries. The first mage since his great ancestor- Salazar Slytherin.

Almost six hundred years ago, the ancient family of Slytherin had disintegrated into three main lines- one had fused with the Gaunts' bloodline and continued as Gaunt. The other had migrated to France and rose to prominence as the Delacour family. The third line was one of squibs, one that continued with the name Evans. Now finally, the powers of the founding father of the ancient family of Slytherin were rising back into the mortal world, and Sebastian was beyond excited about it.

* * *

"You are...Me?"

The entity in front of him smirked at the perplexed visage of Harry Potter. "No, I am not you. You are a remnant of me..."

"Remnant?"

The entity closed his eyes. "I was born a millennium ago, into the family of Peverell—the renowned and accomplished necromancers who had been the progenitors of the Hallows. They were the ones that somehow bestowed the powers of Death into the Hallows-creating what you know as the Deathly Hallows. I was simply the first person to gather the three items together and yet be powerful and willful enough to resist them from claiming my person and my energies."

"You mean; other people have also collected the three Hallows?"

Death looked at him oddly. "Are you daft, boy? Do you think that you are the only person in magical History to collect three artifacts to yourself? Artifacts, which I may add—are extremely famous and known to a lot of people?"

Harry looked at Death blankly. Death was a better name than...thinking that he was looking at himself. What was the word? Yes, remnant; he mused.

"You need to have enough power and strength of will to hold against the essence of the Hallows, and make them subservient to your will. That is the only way to become the Master of the Hallows." Death explained.

"And what happens when you are not?"

"Well they are called the Deathly Hallows for a reason..."

"You mean- they die?"

Death did not answer.

"So who are you?" Harry inquired. "I mean, when you were a descendant of Peverell family, that is."

"My birth name was Serwyl Peverell, grand-child of Ignotus Peverell."

"Serwyl Peverell, I haven't heard of the name, I am afraid."

"Yes it is quite a loss that I did not include my original name in my journals. Else I am sure the new Lord of my family would have recognized me."

Harry blanched. "You are-you are- _Salazar Slytherin_?"

"At your service..." Ser- Salazar Slytherin returned amusedly.

 _I am a remnant of Salazar Slytherin?_

"You are a remnant of Salazar Slytherin."

"But-how?"

Salazar smiled. "Tut, tut; Lord Slytherin- as amusing as it is to see you fluster, I am but a bit disappointed in you. You managed to successfully cast Fiendfyre, knowing that the only other person in recorded history to have done that was-"

"You." Harry ended.

"Me, and yet it never occurred to you why it was so..."

"I thought it was... I do not know... freakish things have always happened with and around me in the past. I always thought that I summoned Fiendfyre, but it was only later on during my studies in the- in your Chamber that I found that I was casting it, not summoning it. I saw an image of you doing the same, though your face was not visible. I copied your style, and for some reason, it came very easily to me, almost as if-"

"You had performed it many times before."

Harry let out his breath, and answered. "Yes."

"When I became the Master of the Hallows, I could not stay amidst the mortal world anymore, because of the duties of the Master of Death. Once one acquires this position, he loses all connections to his family magic, and has to embrace the mantle and powers of Death. Powers that one could only imagine. Powers that help guard the world from its damnation."

"Will I have to do that too?" harry asked, fearing the answer.

"In due time, Yes." Salazar answered, as he continued, "I gave myself a new name and created a new family. Once my son took the Lordship, I left the vestiges of the mortal world and transcended to this realm forever."

"But what about you and Gryffindor having a quarrel and you leaving the school?"

Salazar sighed. "Godric was a bit headstrong person, despite his nobility. My son Shezar had designed the killing curse and Godric had been furious at him dabbing with something as dangerous as soul magic. One thing led to the other and a quarrel ensured. I was getting tired of it anyway and so, I decided to end my association with the school, and having handed over the Lordship to my son, I transcended to these realm. Everyone thought me gone and dead, and I did nothing to change the fact."

"Your son did indeed create a family that dabbled in extreme dark magic. I read it in your memoirs." Harry expressed.

"Yes, Shezar was... always a bit precocious and interested in such things." Salazar confessed.

"That all is fine, but why exactly am I here?" Harry asked, his mind returning to the present.

"You are here because there are things I need to let you know. The moment you won the duel and breached the contract, the future changed drastically. The future that you knew so well does not exist anymore."

"So... Theo and..."

"You won't be able to see them anymore. That time stream had been obliterated and absorbed into temporal fields. What remains now is the future you create."

"Kill Voldemort." Harry emphasized.

"Yes, but not only. Many more powers endanger the world. Powers much greater and much more terrible than Voldemort. Powers that now know of you and your prowess, now that you have demonstrated so much in public." Salazar ended his statement with a scowl. "For a dark lord and a lord Slytherin, you definitely possess Godric's streak of showmanship. Really? Fiendfyre against Fiendfyre?"

Harry scowled back. "The village was warded against apparation. Too many people were there. I couldn't possibly-"

"But you could have ended Karkaroff quickly. No, you just had to play with him until the last moment. For a dark lord who has already been taken down more than once, you refuse to see the phenomenal powers of hubris."

Harry did not reply. He knew that he could have ended Karkaroff easily and within seconds, yet he had decided to give everyone a show. He had nearly gotten them killed in his desire to grant them a good show.

"You are right." He finally confessed.

Salazar smirked at him and answered. "What is done is done. See that you take care of the dangers threatening the world, and then when you are ready, you will have to take on my mantle. The mantle of the Master of Death."

"What will happen to you?"

"I will finally be at peace with my love in the afterlife. You shall sit on my throne and stand guard, until a new seeker comes to take your place. Farewell, Harry Potter, or should I say...Peverell."

* * *

The sudden twitches of his fingers let the others know that he was responding again. He opened his eyes and felt himself staring into the icy blue eyes of his girlfriend. Daphne's eyes were watery as she hugged him tightly, her excitement getting the better of her.

"Daph?"

"Yeah?" She answered, still clinging on to him.

"I can't breathe..."

"Oh."

Daphne quickly stepped back, her face flustered with the variety of emotions flushing through her. Madam Pomfrey came up from the other side and looked down at him. "So you are alive?"

Harry looked at her amusedly. "I missed you too much not to be back, Madam Pomfrey."

"Careful, or else I might make you stay here for a week." She admonished.

Harry gave an expression of downright horror, breaking through the stoic mask of the school matron as a smile leaked through her attempts to be stern. He sat up, and waved his hands. Everything seemed all right.

"How long was I out?"

"Ten hours."

"Oh."

"Yes. Oh. Honestly boy, can you just not stay away from this wing?"

"Oh, I would miss you too much, Madam Pomfrey."

"Should I be jealous that you are trying to flirt with Madam Pomfrey, Potter?" Harry looked up to find Daphne looking sternly at him, a fake angry look plastered on her face. Her hands crossed above her breasts, giving off a look of clear intimidation.

Unsure what to reply, he simply shook his head, causing Daphne to laugh and Pomfrey to smirk. "Come here", Daphne exclaimed; as she drew close to him again, "I will curse you later." Her lips met his as she snogged him senseless.

"Potter, there is someone who has been waiting to talk to you since long." Pomfrey urged from a side.

"Who?"

"That would be me." Sebastian Delacour announced from the doorway, "Hello Mr. Potter, I am Sebastian Delacour."

* * *

There are situations in life when you are perplexed beyond belief. Meeting the father of your girlfriend from the previous life was one such situation. Especially more, considering how said man had always been at odds about his daughter's relationship with you. A similar case now materialized in Harry Potter's life as he watched Sebastian Delacour stride towards him, a beaming smile stuck on his face.

What does he want from me now?

Keeping the disgust away from his face, Harry regarded the incoming problem. Sebastian Delacour was one of the most cunning and powerful individuals he had ever countered in his past life. The man had never ceased to be a royal pain in the arse even when Harry had taken up the mantle of Dark Lord Potter. Not that he had no reason altogether. After all, Sebastian always considered him as responsible for Fleur's death in the first place. Interestingly enough, the man was also his biggest opponent during his war against the ICW- the mercenaries he had at his service were absolute ruthless and menacing.

Mercenaries like Daphne 'Raven' Greengrass.

Now, Daphne was his girlfriend, and the same man was walking towards the two of them. Harry found himself drifting between his future-past and his present, the inexplicable relationship between the three people in the room confusing him to oblivion.

"What- what can I do for you, Mister Delacour?" Harry managed to say.

Sebastian allowed a smile to form on his face. It was interesting to see the young and powerful mage so flustered by his mere presence. Though he could not fathom the reason behind the young man's anxiety, it sure made things even more... interesting.

"I wished to talk to you about matters concerning the life-debt my daughter owes you, Mr. Potter, or should I say..." he inched closer to him, a privacy ward manifesting around him as he did, "—Mister Peverell."

Harry's eyes widened, as his knuckles turned white.

"Very well Mister Delacour, I believe we can discuss this in a... more proper venue."

"If you wish."

Harry looked at Daphne who was looking flustered about the entire thing. She had no idea how he might have incurred a life-debt from the Delacours. After all, the Delacours were a prominent and extremely powerful family of Europe, and were feared and respected by all.

"I can leave you to talk if you wish." Daphne began, but Harry insisted on a "stay!" to which she complied. Sebastian looked oddly at him, and urged. "I assume you have a venue in mind."

"Yes. Dobby!"

The elf popped in almost instantly upon being summoned. "Yes, Master Potter?"

"Take us to Potter Manor." He looked at Sebastian who nodded in consent, as the elf popped them away, much to the consternation of the school matron.

* * *

The four of them reappeared on the grounds of Potter Manor. The lush green grass of the grounds brought a kind of calmness to Harry, who looked at the other two. "Welcome to Potter Manor." Turning to Dobby, "I assume the study is well maintained?"

"Yes, Master Potter."

"Please take us there."

The elf did as told and popped them in the study, vanishing away on spot. Harry ushered Daphne and Sebastian towards the couch. "I am sorry for the break in travel. The wards prevent apparation into the manor directly from outside. Hence, the grounds."

Sebastian shook his head and gestured that it was no problem. Harry sat with Daphne on the couch opposite him as he looked at the duo sharply.

"Now, what exactly was it that you wanted to talk to me. Mister Delacour?"

Sebastian settled himself comfortably on the couch, his sight spanning the entire room. "As I mentioned, it is about the life-debt. You saved my daughter's life, and I want to repay the debt to you."

Harry considered the offer. To deny that he had anything to do with it was not an option. His initial reaction had been a big give-away. Saying it was not a big deal would make it look like charity and that could be taken as an insult.

"Mr. Delacour; I admit that I did save your daughter's life back then, but in all honesty, I do not really require any kind of gratitude in return. The fact that you have kept my identity a secret is more than enough for me. Should you continue to do so, I will consider the debt repaid."

Sebastian looked at him as if Harry had spectacularly failed in trying to answer an easy question.

"As unexpected as your reaction is, there is in fact, something else I wanted to talk to you about, Lord Potter- or should I say, Lord Slytherin?"

Harry blanched. The cunning old man was back. Keeping his rage and shock I check, he looked at the man sitting comfortably across him. "How exactly did you know that?"

"It seems you are quite ignorant of your heritage, Mr. Potter." Sebastian stood up from the couch and strode across the room, pacing slowly as he explained. "The Ancient family of Slytherin broke up around six hundred years ago into three main lines- one that married into the Gaunts and continued in the family; and another squibbed down and took the name of Evans. I assume that was exactly what your mother's maiden name was?"

Harry did not answer, but the surprise etched on his face gave him away.

With an amused expression, Sebastian continued. "The third line migrated to France and settled in as a new family, one which rose to prominence and power." He looked at Harry sharply. "Mine."

Harry drew a breath. He could almost see where this was going. Almost.

"And despite the fact that I am the Lord of Delacour, the Slytherin Lordship has always evaded me. My ancestors had pledged that one day; our descendants shall take up the mantle of Lord Slytherin once again. But imagine my surprise when a descendant from the squib line brought forth the powers of a mage."

Harry looked sharply at him in shock, the new discoveries and information that kept coming was throwing him off-guard. Sebastian continued, "Imagine my surprise, when a young fourteen-year-old manages to cast Fiendfyre successfully, when the only one to do so in magical history was Salazar slytherin himself-or should I say, Serwyl Peverell."

 _He knows too much information._

"Oh I know, and I know a lot more than this, Lord Potter. Believe me, I was not the only one in the crowd who noticed the successful casting of both the infamous mage shield and Fiendfyre. The Slytherin achieves in the Chamber of Secrets are not the only memoirs of Salazar Slytherin, but I suppose you did not know that."

"What do you want?" For some reason, Harry felt extremely wary about the man. Master of Death he might be, but the man held tremendous political power. If he let lose that Harry was Peverell, then he would be hunted forever.

"As I said previously, my ancestors pledged to have a descendant of my family to rise to the mantle of Slytherin Lords once again. I am simply trying to make them proud. Then again, Salazar was a Peverell, and I know that with his mage abilities, he was the one to have access to the Peverell Grimoire. I want _that grimoire_ as part of _my_ family." His eyes had a hungry look in them. "As you very well see Mister Potter, you and I have a _lot_ of unfinished business."

Harry stood up, and faced the man who was all but subtly threatening him in his own Manor.

"All right Mister Sebastian Delacour, you have my complete attention."

* * *

 **### The next chapter is here. Although I would have liked to personally answer some of the questions on 'fainting' posed in the reviews, I believe that the chapter answered them already. Hope you enjoyed it. Reviews, please.**


	22. Chapter 22 : Tricks and tricksters

_"As I said previously, my ancestors pledged to have a descendant of my family to rise to the mantle of Slytherin Lords once again. I am simply trying to make them proud. Then again, Salazar was a Peverell, and I know that with his mage abilities, he was the one to have access to the Peverell Grimoire. I want that grimoire as part of my family." His eyes had a hungry look in them. "As you very well see Mister Potter, you and I have a lot of unfinished business."_

 _Harry stood up, and faced the man who was all but subtly threatening him in his own Manor._

 _"All right Mister Sebastian Delacour, you have my complete attention."_

* * *

Harry looked up at Sebastian in the eye- bright emerald green facing cobalt blue, as he walked straight towards him, his aura flaring dark green-a clear show of his primal emotion behind the emotionless façade. The dark lord in him wanted to impale the man with a dozen swords while the fourteen-year-old wanted to act with caution. He could come across as the bad guy or as the good guy, but the problem was- there was also a lot of middle ground in between, and he was not sure what would exactly be the best solution to the problem.

"Let me get this straight. You are _demanding_ that I surrender the Peverell grimoire to you. Is that what you are talking about?"

Sebastian shook his head. "You misunderstand me. All I want is that the descendant of my family should be the future Lord Slytherin after you. If you can claim or have already claimed the Peverell grimoire, all I want is that it should remain under our one unified family. Slytherin."

Harry's eyes widened, as the simple reality behind the statement reached out to him. This man was not threatening him; he was here for a family coalition. An amalgamation.

"You are requesting me to marry into your family." Harry returned slowly.

"Yes and No. Marry, yes. Request, no. It is my wish that you consider this proposition very well, and marry my eldest daughter, reuniting the family line."

"Hmm..." Harry pretended to give it a thought, before he continued, "You are downright trying to force me to marry Fleur." A part of him could help but laugh inwardly at the entire irony of the situation. "Tell me, what does your daughter think of this? As far as I knew, she regards me as some sort of... _little boy_."

"My eldest Fleur is a Veela by blood. Veela have tremendous abilities of perception regarding magical auras. They are almost... _magnetically_ attracted to powerful wizards. Knowing how you have already saved her life during the Quidditch cup, and also seeing your performances recently, I am quite... sure she will have no qualms about marrying you."

 _Was that why Fleur became my girlfriend the last time?_

Harry's mind worked backwards, reminiscing the day of the Quidditch World Cup. Fleur's behavior... it had been nice, too nice.

 _"Nice to meet you Harry Harry Potter." She replied with a smirk. Harry grinned back, "It is an old habit."_

 _"The boy-who-lived, walking alone here in the empty field?" She urged. "Running away from fans?" she suggested._

 _Harry grinned._

 _"Hmmm..." Fleur mused. "Well the tournament is about to begin. I should be there with my Papa." She nodded once and strode forward, only to stop midway and turn back, "You coming?"_

 _Harry could only nod. "Of course."_

She had been quite warm and lively, compared to the generally cold outlook she displayed out to everyone. Was that completely a part of the attraction? After the names of the Champions had come out, Fleur's reaction had underwent a complete reverse. It had been almost as if-she had been doing anything to not encounter him. Was it because she was trying to counteract the effects of the attraction? Was her indifference simply a middle ground between the irresistible attraction and her personal feelings against him?

Sebastian continued his monologue, bringing Harry out of his reveries. "So tell me Lord Potter, will you assent to my proposition?"

Harry stopped suddenly. A part of him was almost willing to leap out and agree, remembering the past events with Fleur. The more sensible part of him told him that Daphne was his girlfriend, and thus he should not do it. Besides, Sebastian Delacour would win over him if he agreed to his wishes. He took a too much time.

A little too much.

"Excuse me, I have to leave." Daphne commented out suddenly, and Harry turned towards her. Her eyes were watery and full of questions. He wanted to say something but she sped off, rushing out of the room, yelling for the House elf to take her back to the school.

 _Damn!_

"So what do you think, Lord Potter?"

Harry looked up at the man in front of him. "Tell me Mr. Delacour, what happens if I disregard your proposition? What happens if I say No?"

Sebastian smirked. The way the conversation was going on- nobody would ever believe that the young man in front of him was mere fourteen. "Why would you not want to agree? I know that you have quite a... scandalous relationship with Miss Greengrass," he ignored the glint of fury in Harry's eyes as he continued, "—but you are Lord Potter and Lord Slytherin. Legally, you are in position to take on a second wife. Besides, my daughter is a Veela. Surely you see the benefits of the relationship?"

Harry regarded the man skeptically. Whatever his previous altercations with the man in the past had taught him; none of them matched the man he was talking to at the moment. The Sebastian Delacour of old was a ruthless bastard, sur; but he did love his daughter. This one though, seemed to have no trouble bartering away his daughter if his dreams could be fulfilled.

"You would trade your daughter for your dreams?" He hissed.

"Who says so? You are rich, powerful and immune to Veela allure. I have already spoken with my eldest and she is interested to be part of this amalgamation. In fact, she downright insisted upon the fact that if not for the sudden misunderstanding regarding the Triwizard Champion selection, she would have had been good friends with you, already. Do you understand where I am coming from?"

Harry narrowed his eyes. Inwardly he was bursting with emotions. His entire life right now seemed to be a lie. "Yes, I believe I do."

Sebastian crossed his fingers and stood in front of him, his hawk-like eyes trying to perceive Harry's thoughts, as he continued. "If you are still disinterested in pursuing this amalgamation, I will have to undertake... _other_ means to convince you."

"As in?"

"As I have demonstrated previously, I hold information in the highest regard. Information is everything. As I have stated, I know who you are. You are the serial killer Peverell who has downright butchered purebloods right and left. I know you are the Boy-who-lived and everything, but the Wizengamot will not hold your fame as enough to prevent the actions that will be staged against you. The entire pureblood community will bay for your blood. You will have to flee from Britain."

"Really?" Harry snorted, "All of that because of your _ridiculous_ claims that I am Peverell?"

"Well, not really. Nevertheless, consider this. My daughter is a Veela. She can sense magical auras and say if two auras are the same. All I have to do is use my sources and set up a Wizengamot session. I will simply ask her to take Veritaserum and then sense your aura in open court and then reveal if the two auras are the same. After that, the Wizengamot simply has to ask you to state an oath that you are innocent-an oath that you cannot take. Case solved!"

The lion in harry almost bared his fangs in fury.

"If you think your lordships will save you, you are wrong. You are not a proper Lord Potter yet, just a Head. Revealing your Slytherin heritage in open court will only help me to play their fears against you more easily. After all, the last heir of Slytherin was quite...detrimental to the society." He smirked. "Then again, there is the case of Sirius Black to consider. Even if you were to escape the clutches of the law, who knows... an old animagus, especially who is still mentally... _improper_ , could suffer some bad fate in France. And before you think of involving the law on your side, I should tell you that I enjoy diplomatic immunity in Great Britain."

Harry grit his teeth in anger. "Tell me Mister Delacour, we are in my house at the moment. What prevents me from holding you hostage and extracting all your information out of your mind?"

"A memory lock spell."

Harry's eyes widened. Memory lock spells were an ancient art. The spell enabled the practitioner to simply lock away his memories using the help of a password. It was almost like a Fidelius in a way. If anyone tried to force open the practitioner's mind, the memories would automatically self-destroy.

"Yes, but it could turn into a vegetable for a lifetime."

"It could." Sebastian shrugged.

"You have come prepared."

"Delacours are Slytherins, Lord Potter. We plan for everything."

Harry considered the situation. "I could always just kill you here for once and for all."

"You could, but consider this- I know that you are a mage. I know that for all my political power, you could beat the shit out of me in a battle of magical power. Despite that, I came here with you. In your own house." His smile went feral. "I have my failsafes in process. Should you kill me, they will activate. Your godfather will be shot dead instantly moments after my death, and for all your powers, you will not be able to stop it. That will be the beginning. I have stored enough evidence to point the needle towards you. The French and British Ministry will become blood hounds, baying for your blood."

Harry clenched his fists in anger. This man had indeed prepared for everything.

"You are right. However, it does not cancel the fact that you will die. Then," he shot a feral look at Sebastian, "I will come for your family."

"Empty threat, Lord Potter. You went off to fight a basilisk to save the school. You faced Dementors to save your godfather. You faced eleven death-eaters to protect someone whom you did not even know. You faced a duel to the death for a girl you are not even sure you will marry or not. You saved the entire population at Godric's Hollow from the Fiendfyre at personal risk. I know you, Harry Potter. You may have this big bad mask out in place, but Harry Potter will not kill an innocent. He is the good guy. The boy whose parents died to save him, the boy who can do _anything_ for his friends...that, Harry Potter is your biggest weakness, and my greatest advantage."

The lion in him wanted to leap on this insane maniac in front of him and shred him to pieces, but that was not an option. He was surrounded on all sides, and his Slytherin instincts told him that Delacour held all the cards. He would have to play the game, at least until he got a trump card of his own. There was a reason he was having the conversation in his study. There was a complex rune inscribed in the room that allowed him to sense whether the person was lying or speaking the truth.

Sebastian Delacour was certainly not bluffing.

"Very well." He grit his teeth. "What do you want?"

Sebastian smiled. "Like I said, I wanted to talk to you about my eldest daughter's life debt!"

* * *

Daphne paced furiously within the Room of Requirement. Not even a day had passed since she was guaranteed a future, and already Harry was deciding upon having a second wife. It was not something out of the blue, but somehow she had expected different from Harry.

 _Perhaps all men are the same. One woman is not enough to fulfil their carnal desires._

The door opened with a sudden bang, and Harry busted in from outside, his pace furious. Daphne looked oddly at him, wondering what might have caused such a reaction in him. Her own insecurities locked away, she addressed him. "What happened?"

Harry looked at her blankly for a minute. "That insane bastard got the better of me!" he snarled.

Daphne squinted at him, and urged him to continue. Harry stood up and held his hands out. Two dummies immediately materialized at the end of the room, which took the two large purple spells that hurled out of Harry's hands.

Daphne looked at her boyfriend sharply.

Controlled wandless magic. Just how powerful was he?

"What has got you so mad?" She finally asked. Harry looked at her and gnashed his teeth. "Delacour blackmailed me. Unless I agreed to marry Fleur, everything would go to hell, and I would be unable to stop it from happening. That man... he played upon my weakness and took advantage of it."

Daphne hugged him from behind by his waist, and murmured. "Tell me everything."

* * *

Fleur sat on her bedside, waiting in anticipation for her father to return. She had expressed her views about Harry Potter to him, telling him everything what had happened between them, and what she wanted. He had promised her that he would convince Harry to see beyond their petty fight and return as her friend, and possibly her future partner. The Veela in her had sensed the power in Harry the first day itself, but perhaps it was because of the effects of the Cruciatus, coupled with Peverell's overwhelming aura that had stolen the attraction away. Now that she knew that Harry and Peverell were the same, she was overjoyed. On the one hand, Harry was immune to her allure. On the other hand, he was damned powerful. The Veela in her would have danced to heaven when her father promised that he would convince Harry.

"Fleur?"

Fleur glanced backwards to find her father standing at the doorway.

"Papa!" She exclaimed, before rushing down the bed towards him. "What did he say? How did the meeting go?"

Sebastian smiled. His daughter's happiness was the most important thing to him. The fact that he had a chance to fulfill his family pledge only sweetened the deal.

"Yes. He has agreed."

Fleur squealed and hugged her father hard. "I love you Papa, you are the best!" she promised.

Sebastian smiled as he closed his eyes, embracing his daughter. "Anything for you, my flower."

* * *

"That...that decrepit, noxious moron..." Daphne swore vehemently, "-has he addled his brains? How can he-" she stopped midway, realizing that Harry was silent, too silent about the entire thing.

"What are you going to do about this?"

Harry gave a long-suffering sigh. "For starters, I have to get back to being friends with Fleur." Even her name now felt bitter in his mind. "We settled on a betrothal that will take place one year from now. I will have gained the permanent Headship and Lord of Potter by then, and she will have completed seventeen years of age. Both of us will be legible for marriage."

"Next year?" Daphne felt her throat go dry.

"No. The betrothal is next year. We have to marry by our seventh year. That is, four years from now. Daphne", he glanced at her watery eyes, "I do not want to sound like a Pureblood pervert, but me being the Lord of two houses, makes me eligible to take a second wife. I know you are only fourteen and quite young, but would you consent to marry me someday? I do not want to lose you."

Daphne looked at him with glossy eyes. "I will."

Harry smiled. At least he still had his girlfriend with him. "As for Delacour, he will get his due. Not today, but someday soon." He promised. He could not help but curse himself for the complications he had brought on himself because of hubris.

 _Never again. Never again._

* * *

Lucius Malfoy paced across his study angrily. Potter! That blasted brat had not only killed Karkaroff, sealing the deal and breaking off the contract successfully; he had even come out looking like the hero out of the entire process. Lucius had cleverly constructed a cunning plan when he had heard that Potter would be the one championing for Greengrass.

Knowing Karkaroff, there was no way the man could resist from showing off his skill and caliber in the dark arts. Knowing what he knew about Potter's performance, the boy knew at least two questionable curses and of course, was masterfully capable of controlling Fiendfyre. An unfathomable feat! Even the dark lord's powers at controlling Fiendfyre were slim at best and flimsy at worst. Most dark wizards used the hellish flames as a failsafe or as a means for destruction- never as a spell.

Knowing that the duel would make Potter reveal his knowledge of questionable curses, Lucius had sent the information about the duel to the Daily Prophet. When Potter revealed just how many questionable curses he knew, Lucius would take the opportunity and turn the public against him. The fact that he was a known parselmouth and the controversy about his selection in the Tournament would only hasten the process.

Yes, it had been a very clever plan.

Only that Karkaroff just had to go and summon Fiendfyre on the open grounds of Godric's Hollow.

Lucius had been devastated as his own champion tore his perfectly coordinated and casted plan to shreds. Harry Potter also followed with another spurt of Fiendfyre and actually used it to extinguish Karkaroff's monster. The Boy-who-lived had performed exquisite dark magic in front of the Ministry and esteemed guests, and had come out shining as a Hero in the process.

 _Damn you, Potter!_

"Hit your own leg by your curse, Lucius?"

Lucius whirled around towards the direction of the sound. Sitting in his study, on his chair, was a redhead. However, this redhead also had a veritable dark mark on his left arm, and the mark was active, way too much active than Lucius' own.

"Who are you?"

"I am Trickster. The dark lord sends his regards." The redhead answered, his fingers toying with a wand- a wand very similar to- Lucius felt his robes suddenly and to his shock, his wand was missing. Glancing back, he found that the wand in the stranger's fingers was none but his very own one.

"Give me my wand." He snarled dangerously. Trickster smirked at him. "Come now Lucius, you and I can both agree that by holding your wand, I have the advantage of your complete attention. Am I wrong, Lucius?"

"What do you want?" Lucius snarled.

"As I said, the dark lord sends his regards." The man looked up suddenly at him, the hidden power behind his brown eyes almost x-raying Lucius, causing him to shudder, "-and has asked of me to inform you that he needs your service."

Lucius almost blanched. "The dark lord lives?"

"Tut, Tut, Lucius. You seem to have gotten slow in our old age. You have been the governor of Hogwarts all these years, and the dark lord was at Hogwarts for an entire year. Yet you say you knew nothing about it? I believe you are getting too slow...Perhaps this..." he touched his dark mark with his finger and smirked, and instantly Lucius dropped down in veritable agony. The stranger's eyes glinted with power and cruel amusement as he continued, "-the dark lord has tied all kinds of punishments to the dark mark. Why just yesterday he was telling me that he could very well kill any of his followers through the mark itself." His lips twisted into a cruel smile. "Perhaps he was not joking."

Lucius groaned in pain, his muscles twitching as the power of a Cruciatus shot through his nerves repeatedly. "STOP! Stop this!"

The pain stopped. Lucius looked up cautiously and got up to his feet, holding his cane for support. "I swear I had no idea. What does the dark lord ask of me?"

"He wants you to free Bellatrix Lestrange. I do not know how, but you have to do it. You have time until April. Do it, and perhaps the dark lord will be merciful. See ya Lucius." Saying so, Trickster apparated away, breaking through the heavy wards of Malfoy Manor.

* * *

 **### A short chapter once again, but it fit the bill. My second chapter for the day. I know that I let Sebastian win for the moment, but an all-willing Harry Potter isn't just what I wanted to create. Anyways, reviews please.**


	23. Chapter 23 : Plots and Plays

The battle to the death between the Durmstrang High Master and Harry Potter had taken the wizarding world by storm. The next morning witnessed the way media agencies had covered the entire battle, especially the aftermath of the duel when Igor Karkaroff had spelled Fiendfyre upon Godric's Hollow, endangering the lives of several hundred natives as well the three hundred visitors including the Ministry people that had come to witness the duel.

Rita Skeeter had written an exquisite piece on the issue, somehow restraining herself from downright accusing Harry of being a dark wizard. Since Harry's efforts helped save the hundreds of lives there, any negative shade on him would bring an unpleasant reaction from the public. Considering how Rita had quilled it, the article screamed out her frustrations arising out of her self-restraint. She had heavily hinted upon 'questionable curses', 'overwhelming power', and ability to 'handle a destructive spell', but it had failed to have the desired effect. The Wizengamot had held up an emergency session and declared that he should receive an Order of Merlin, second class for his efforts.

The next day after his meeting with Sebastian Delacour, Harry had received three owls. One had been from the Ministry of Magic, asking him to submit to a general questioning about his knowledge of questionable curses from the DMLE, followed by a note of thanks for saving the population of Godric's Hollow. There was an invitation to attend the Ministry Ball on Boxing Day, and accept his award.

The second letter had been more interesting. It had been from the ICW—specifically the International Mage guild, asking him if he was interested in becoming a part of their council, and if so, an invitation to attend the elementary test that all chosen candidates had to enroll for. Attached to the letter was a postscript mentioning that because of his efforts in saving important ICW members, he had been thanked with a gift cheque of ten thousand galleons. There was also some other formal legalese there, but Harry put it off for future reference. The entire thing had Sebastian Delacour written all over it, and Harry decided to look about it later.

The third letter was perhaps, the most peculiar and the least expected. It was an invitation from the Department of Mysteries, stating a magical vow that they did not have any intention to cause him harm. The Department desired that he should present himself (date and time to be negotiated upon further notice) for some discussion regarding mutual issues.

Harry had replied, acknowledging the letters from the Ministry and the DOM, keeping the missive from the ICW for future consideration. Daphne had invited him to her family manor, asking him to spend the weekend with her family. She had subtly hinted upon the fact that her father wanted to discuss some _'issues'_ with him (the blush on her face was a dead giveaway about the possible topic of discussion) and that she was to inform him back should Harry agree to the invitation. He had naturally, consented, much to a beaming Daphne who had snogged him for the next hour.

Hogwarts had its own share of the aftermath to the epic duel. 'The battle of Godric's Hollow'—they called it. Strangely, most of the Durmstrang students did not show any kind of visible vexation or resentment towards him. Victor Krum had even walked up to him and congratulated on a duel 'well-done', thanking him for saving his life and many others. Harry had just been glad to acknowledge it.

The school students had dumbed down in their exasperating annoyance regarding him, considering how he had proved himself time and again, that he could very well be a better champion than Diggory who had failed the first task (though he had received ten points for good sport) though. The Hufflepuffs had finally understood and appreciated the fact that after all of this, if Potter was still claiming that he did not, in fact enter his name; then it must inevitably be the truth. Most of the Slytherins now usually kept off from him, trying their level best to follow his activities while pretending not to be looking for him. Knowing what they did, their sense of self-preservation told them that Potter was best left avoided. Besides, he was seen in the presence of pretty important people recently and considering his latest acquisition of the Order of Merlin, the most Slytherin thing to do was to be in his good books.

Theo, Blaise and Tracy however, found it all very amusing. Tracy had downright went forward, asking Harry and Daphne openly in the Great Hall, that now that Daphne was free from the contract, how long would it take for the two of them to tie a knot in the future. Blaise had hinted about his suspicions about Harry and Daphne making nice the next day after the battle, considering how both of them had been away for the day, much to the pair's consternation.

Lastly, there was Fleur. The Veela girl had been a bit of an overwhelming character in the last few days, considering how she had just come out of the blue, being all nice to Harry once again and hugging him tightly (Tracy had her suspicions that the hugging was less platonic and more of smashing her considerable assets over his chest, much to Daphne's scowl) and apologizing again and again, for misunderstanding him. Harry had weighed between telling Fleur everything and using her to gain an upper hand over Sebastian, but things were still in progress for now.

* * *

"Harry, why didn't you tell me that it was you who saved me at the world Cup?" Fleur asked. She had come over to the Gryffindor table to have breakfast with her friend and soon-to-be-betrothed.

"I did not want to get any extra attention." Harry replied, a bitter tone distinct in his voice.

"But there was the matter of the life debt." Harry's eyes narrowed slightly at those words as Fleur continued, "It was important for my family. I am just glad that you and Papa settled it among yourselves."

Harry gave a steely glance at her. "Fleur, what _exactly_ has your father told you?"

Fleur beamed at him. "I told him about how I sensed that you were the mysterious savior who saved my life back there at the World Cup. I told him about how my..." she blushed before continuing, "I am a Veela, Harry, and we are magnetically attracted to wizards with power. Magical power. That and his strength of will. When I met you at the World Cup, you completely ignored my allure, making me strongly attracted towards you. I had planned to meet you again, if not for the attack on my person. Then again, you saved me."

Harry did not reply.

"I am an international duelist, Harry and I have fought all my life to see more, to know more, to be more than just the _Veela_ daughter of Sebastian Delacour. I had toiled hard, won dueling championships and established my name and some considerable fame among the dueling circuits. When I heard about the Triwizard, I could see a momentous chance for me to prove myself to the world." She paused for a moment and stared into his eyes, "—and then you got selected as Champion as well."

"And I insulted the tournament." Harry finished for her, making Fleur shake her head.

"You did, and I felt very angry. I felt—I felt that someone had just stepped on my dreams and crushed them as nothing. At that moment, I only saw you as the Boy-who-lived—the boy who had been famous before he could speak. I- I was mad, insanely mad, but I was still attracted to your ridiculously powerful aura, and I was in a mess about it."

 _Was it the aura the first time too?_

Harry paused before asking something that had been in his mind since long. "This attraction, you say. What is it like, some mental compulsion or something?"

A scowl momentarily formed on her angelic face, before Fleur vanished it away, replacing with a smile as she continued, "No. not a compulsion. The allure is simply a test of will and character. Only the ones that have the greatest will power can hold against the allure." Her voice dumbed down to a lower tone, making it sound much more erotic, "and it is _immensely attractive_ to us."

She drew back and smiled. "Veela use the powers of the allure in their search for potential partners. When I met you, I knew it somehow, that you are one of those that I subconsciously seek. And then, when I met my dad, I told him about it."

Harry narrowed his eyes.

Fleur smiled. "My Papa promised me he would solve the problem. He always makes sure that I get what I want." The inherent sense of belief that lined her voice was noticeable.

"Of course." Harry muttered to himself.

"Harry," she held his hand, "My Papa told me that you are Lo- you know what, and that-" she blushed, "we are to be betrothed in accordance to your recognizing the debt. I am very glad that you did."

"What about your-" Harry paused, "—future plans?"

Fleur looked puzzled. "Papa said that you have no problems with me pursuing my career in Enchantment."

"Right."

Fleur looked at him expectantly, gesturing him to continue.

"Do you... _know_ about my relationship with Daphne?"

"Of course. I know that she is your girlfriend. My Papa told me that you might even marry. That is all right, considering how you fought for her and everything", she replied offhandedly. "Besides you have multiple lordships, so it likely won't be a problem, I think, though..."

"Though?"

"I wonder that when you have me in your life, why you would still need another woman. After all, there is _no one_ like me." She stated firmly, her unshakeable belief in her words resounding in Harry's mind.

 _Is this the truth behind the girl I once loved?_

His eyes narrowed; the emerald green eyes that had emanated warmth now felt cold and deadly. "Miss Delacour, understand one single thing. Daphne Greengrass is my girlfriend. She is the girl I am actually looking forward as my partner in life. If not for your father and this life-debt, I would not even _look_ at you anymore." He snarled, his dark aura rising.

Fleur squinted at him, her countenance one of disbelief. How dare he talk to her like that? She was Fleur Delacour. There has been no manor child that has held against her wishes.

"Harry!" she issued warningly, "we are supposed to be betrothed. You cannot behave like this with me!" A cruel smirk formed on his lips, as he stood up, and turned back.

"Try me." Saying so, he began to walk away from her, much to her growing rage.

 _How dare he dismiss me like that? I will- I will-_

She sent him the full force of her allure. Everyone in the great Hall felt the entire force of it. The men were almost instantly reduced to drooling idiots, while he females were downright infuriated, some even holding their wands tightly in anger.

"Stop where you are, and come back to me." Fleur ordered with complete confidence. A soft smile formed on her full pink lips as Harry stopped suddenly, and turned back.

"Now, I want you to come forward and apologize."

As expected, Harry walked back towards her, and stood close. Very close.

"Kiss me now and apologize." Her voice sounded incredibly erotic. A couple of people had even fallen unconscious due to the full blast of the allure.

"There is just one thing I wanted to say to you, Miss Delacour." Harry replied with a tone of incredible geniality.

"What is that?" she asked huskily.

"The Imperius has no effect on me. What _exactly_ made you think that you and your allure", he sneered at the last word, "—stand a pitiful chance?" Fleur stood completely gob smacked at the turn of events. Harry Potter had completely ignored the effects of her full blast of allure. It was impossible.

"I have seen what you truly are, Miss Delacour, and while I agree that you might be fun in bed", he paused as the words took effect, "mind your allure before I _mind_ you." He raised his hand (his wand had reached his palm automatically) skyward and whispered.

"Finite Incantatem."

A circle of bright blue light radiated outward from the tip of his wand, as the male population slowly turned back to normal. Sending his wand back to his holster, Harry looked at her in the eye. "You and I may have to get betrothed, but never for once, imagine that I hold any kind of feelings for you. As for Daphne, she is worth a hundred of you", he paused, _"Veela."_

He had stalked off from the Great Hall leaving a flustered Fleur Delacour behind. He never noticed the proud watery eyes of a raven-haired blue-eyed beauty sitting with her friends over the Slytherin table.

* * *

Harry shoved the door of the Room open and ushered himself inside. Ever since his meeting with Sebastian Delacour had happened, many complexities had been created. However, it was a fact that a battle should always be fought on one's own terms. This time, Sebastian had held all the cards and Harry's ignorance had led him astray.

 _The next time, the tables will turn._

As per as the agreement between them, Harry had agreed to be betrothed to Fleur by the end of hid fourth year. He also had to swear an oath that his first son with Fleur would inherit the title of Lord Slytherin upon _his death_. Knowing what he knew about the powers of the Hallows that effectively put a serious resistance to Sebastian's dream... not that Harry was going to inform him about it. Besides, there were too many variables in the equation. Primarily, he had to know what the _damned_ Peverell Grimoire was. The last time around, he had never even _heard_ of it.

 _I cannot win the game unless I know all the variables..._

The next thing was the fact about him being Peverell. Sebastian had given him an oath of silence about Harry being the killer Peverell. He had even got up to promise mutual aid and support; after all, they were going to be a big unified family.

The third thing was Sirius Black. The moment he had some time free to himself, he had called up Sirius and downright ordered him to return to Potter Manor. As long as Sirius remained a fugitive, he was a liability-one that Harry did not want to deal with. Sirius might not like it but until his innocence was proved, he had to stay in Potter manor. Sirius had complied without question.

The fourth- his political weakness. As powerful as he was, he knew very well that his political connections and resources were limited. The Wizengamot had many powerful figures up there-Lucius Malfoy, Albus Dumbledore and of course, Delacour himself, given his roots in British society. The fact that Delacour enjoyed diplomatic immunity made it all the more important.

He took out the three letters he had received. The International Mage Guild...he reminisced, a group of the world's most powerful people, an autonomy of powerful wizards who submitted to the will of the ICW, and acted as the international guard against possible threats. The dark lord Potter had faced these so-called mages once in battle. While under the control of the ICW, the guild had the right to take its own decisions about whether to fight or not to fight in a war. Since Inferno Corp. had its roots deep into the ICW, the Guild had given a one-time support and then lifted their hands off, letting the ICW vulnerable to fight its own battles. That was when Delacour had brought mercenaries into the fight.

 _They were powerful then, but then again, I did not have my skills at that time. I wonder how I would stand against them now..._

Replying in affirmation about the elementary testing, he prepared a letter to send off. The next thing on the list—Department of Mysteries.

 _Lets' see what they want with me now._

Concentrating on the power of the Hallows, he felt his body disintegrate to smoke and with one flash of gray, he vanished away.

* * *

He appeared right into the Level 9 corridor—the one that led to the Department of Mysteries. Two guards were sitting outside the chamber, and seeing the newcomer arrive, they halted him.

"Name?"

"Harry Potter. I got a missive from the Department."

The two guards looked up at his face, recognizing him instantly. "Of course, Mister Potter, but you will have to wait until I check up for details."

Harry nodded as the guard whispered something onto the small device on the table, which blinked with a flash of blue. "Sounds about right, Mister Potter. You may enter. Someone from the other side will be there to take you in."

Shrugging, he opened the door and entered into the Department. It was almost pitch-black, with little lights coming off from various rooms nearby. There was a glow of silver from a side as a voice spoke up. "Mister Potter, please come with me."

 _When in Rome, do as Romans do..._

* * *

The two entered into a closed room. There was a high table in front of them. The hooded man went over to the other side of the table and sat on a chair, while he offered Harry the seat on the other side. The dim lights of the room did not allow him to see the man's face, but the outline was clear.

"Quite a drastic change since the last time visit." Harry uttered. The unspeakable snorted, before sitting up straight. "You are right, Mr. Potter. The last time you were a suspect, this time you are an aid. Hence the change of behavior and venue."

"Why am I here?" Harry countered, getting to the point.

"Because we intend to share certain information with you. And we hope that we acquire some information about the future from you as well."

"Barter."

"Precisely."

Harry did not reply.

"If you give us what we need, I can assure you that we will be very good friends."

Harry snorted. What was it with people wanting to have deals with him so much?

"What kind of information?"

"To be precise, why exactly did you return back and change the timeline? I know you mentioned that you are here to kill Lord Voldemort, but I want specifics."

Harry considered it. "How do I know that the information will not get leaked?"

"An oath of secrecy, if you wish" came the counter reply.

"Very well." Harry paused, 'what information do you have for me?"

The unspeakable smiled. "Come with me."

* * *

They walked past countless rows of shelves, each holding innumerable number of prophecy orbs. A couple or more on every row seemed to have gone dark and cold, indicating that the prophecies have been fulfilled. The unspeakable, or rather Croaker as his name was, walked silently past the shelves towards some destination.

"We are in the Room of Prophecy, though your lack of reaction shows that you already know that."

Amused, Harry shook his head. "I have been here. Twice in fact. There is a prophecy somewhere around the next bend, I think—one that pertains to me and Voldemort."

"You would be almost correct. There used to be a prophecy about you and lord Voldemort."

"Used to?"

Croaker gave an amused grin. "You shall see it for yourself, soon. We are going to get that very same prophecy orb."

A couple of rows later, they entered into another narrow corridor and walked straight. After crossing a few yards, Croaker stopped and turned towards left. Pressing his palm on a blank wall, he muttered something obscure as a panel opened outward from the wall. There inside it, was a prophecy orb. The problem was- the orb had gone blank, instead of the normal darkish appearance.

On the top of the mantle holding the orb in place were the same, familiar words.

 **S.P.T to A.P.W.B.D**

 **Dark Lord and (?) Harry Potter**

"Why is this orb...?" Harry paused to find the correct word in his mind.

"Different? Blank? Empty?" Croaker suggested. Harry shrugged.

"I guess. Yeah."

"This orb was the original reason behind your interrogation. When a prophecy orb goes blank, it means one single thing-shift of an important chronologic confluence. Knowing what the prophecy was about and the people involved, it was a matter of concern. Add to that, we found that said time-traveler was murdering people right and left, and we had to intervene."

"By kidnapping me from the train." Harry countered.

"Would you have consented by pleasant requests?"

Harry shrugged. Turning back to face the now-blank orb, "so what does this mean? I am no longer the person who can kill Voldemort?"

"We do not know." Croaker confessed. "The prophecy going blank may have several reactions. That is also one of the reasons behind your visit. You said you have been here before." Harry nodded. "Do you know the contents of the prophecy?"

Harry nodded again,

"I wish to try out something." He touched his wand to the orb and touched it, muttering something obscure. "Now, hold the orb in your hand and utter the prophecy again, just as it originally was."

Harry nodded. The words of the prophecy had been on his mind too many times to get confused. He held the orb in his hand, and uttered the ominous words.

" **The one with the power to vanquish the dark lord approaches...  
born to those who have thrice defied him...  
born as the seventh month dies...**

 **And the dark lord will mark him as his equal,  
but he will have power the dark lord knows not...  
And either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives...**

 **The one with the power to vanquish the dark lord will be born as the seventh** _ **  
**_ **month dies. . . ."**

Croaker held his wand at the orb again and intoned, "Ostendere fatum." The orb glowed for a moment with a bright purple sheen before suddenly it suddenly vibrated and obliterated itself into silvery ash.

"Well that was worth a try!" Croaker observed with a sigh.

"What just happened?"

Croaker turned towards him with a scowl. "This, Mister Potter, is called a time-shift. The prophecy has been altered forever. It no longer holds true, and thus, the entire timeline of our future has been obliterated because of your actions."

Harry just stood still.

"You do not look surprised."

"I returned back to change the timeline, and I know that it is changed permanently, forever. For good or evil, it is too early to say."

"And how exactly do you know that?" Croaker furrowed his forehead as he observed the young man before him.

"I really, couldn't say." Harry diverted the question. Croaker seemed to consider something before he dropped the line of questioning. "What changes have you made after returning to the past? Apart from the serial killings of course."

Harry ignored the sarcastic taunt of the Unspeakable. "They were not innocent. The ones that I killed are the very people responsible for destruction of Britain. Voldemort is just the cream of it. The people I killed, they were the main ones- well among the main ones really. After I am done weeding, I will go for the cream."

"And what makes you think that you can do it? Did you kill the dark lord in your previous timeline?"

Harry considered it. The oath of secrecy that the man had provided was a security. "No. Voldemort... he summoned demons and lost control. While I indeed thinned the demon herd, Voldemort was killed in a fight with the demons themselves."

"Dem—demons?" Croaker stuttered, "the dark—Voldemort summoned demons?"

"Yes. They destroyed everything. The Ministry was the first to fall in my sixth year. The next year, Gringotts fell to him and he also destroyed a large section of Hogwarts in the battle during my seventh."

"Are you telling me that all this is going to happen in the next three years?" Croaker almost sounded hysterical.

"Was going to happen. Timeline changed. Things will be better." Harry remarked, sounding hopeful.

"Things could also go down the shit-hole." Croaker countered.

"Point."

"When does Voldemort resurrect himself?" Croaker interrogated.

"On the night at the end of the third task."

"And you plan to stop him from resurrection."

"I plan to end his miserable existence." Harry deadpanned.

"Oh." Croaker observed. "In that case, Mister Potter. I assume you and I can be of mutual help with each other. The DOM enjoys a level of autonomy and has its own-armed unit, as you well know. Knowing what you did and what you are bent on doing, I assume you will need some kind of help against prosecution."

Harry did not reply, waiting for Croaker to finish his diatribe.

"What do you say?"

"I think that it is best that I work alone. That way I won't be answerable to anyone."

"Yes, but think about it. If you are a part of our department, you achieve immunity from prosecution in such cases. Though, you will have to supply evidences that the people you murdered were death eaters and criminals in the first case."

Harry considered it. It was a _good_ deal. "Where _is_ the catch?"

Croaker smirked. The young man was indeed smart.

"I wish to know how you evaded our interrogation chamber; and while we are on that topic, I am extremely curious about how a young man, time-traveler or not, is able to successfully _cast_ Fiendfyre."

Harry groaned.

* * *

 **### And... that was it. What do you think of it? As always, please let lots of reviews coming in...**


	24. Chapter 24 : The Future Past

"Reducto! Bombarda prima!"

The explosive spells hurled out and bounced off Harry's sturdy shield, but that did not lessen Daphne's intent or her desire to break through his defenses. She held her ground, and managed to whirl over; dodging the two severing curses sent her way, before bouncing back with a powerful banisher. The overwhelming force behind her spell pushed him back by a few feet but it was not enough to break his shield.

"Good try, Daph! But you need to do better!"

Daphne nodded briskly, the drops of sweat glistened on her neck as she dodged and swerved through the oncoming attacks and landed another powerful severing curse at him. Harry dispelled the curse with a banisher that met it midway and vanished off the shield, moving from defense to offense.

"Now, defend!" He shouted, sending a veritable array of severing hexes and bludgeoner spells at her. It was a useful technique, since the moves required to stop severing hexes were completely opposite to that required for a bludgeoner. It was like trying to stop a sharp knife and a powerful cannon ball at the same time. Daphne cast an aegis shield and immediately sent a powerful banisher to the ground, propelling her upwards, managing to avoid both curses effortlessly.

"Masterfully done!" he congratulated, making her blush. It was the first time he had truly congratulated her during their training regimen. After months of being called 'useless' and 'incompetent', his praise sent her heart dancing among the clouds. Ignoring the fact that they were both tired, dusty and drenched with sweat, she moved forwards and kissed him fully on the lips.

"Was that an acknowledgement?" Harry teased, as she separated from him.

"What if it was?" she countered.

"Do you hear me complaining?" he winked, causing her to blush. Daphne mock-scoffed and moved towards the shower rooms that the Room had sprouted out for them.

After a nice shower, the two were back to their study—this time working on Arithmancy and Runes. Vector was truly making him work a lot, what with the way she had gone overboard after knowing how much he knew and understood her subject. Right now, he was working on a runic matrix that could be a perfect combination of at least three binding spells. It was hard work, since he had never quite done it before. He had always preferred to do it the normal way-wand waving.

"Harry?"

He looked at her in surprise, almost amused at finding her eyes lit up with a question. "Anything troubling your mind?"

"I guess- there is this thing. I know you are stuck in the betrothal with Delacour and everythin, but I was talking with Tracy the other day and-"

"Ah, Tracy! Is she still upset about me not taking up her invitation to the broom cupboards?" he teased, causing her to redden a little. "Anyways", she raised her voice, trying to stop the divergence, "we were discussing the French princess, and Tracy pointed out something, and-"

"Daph! Cut it out. What do you want to know?"

"Did you know her in your... well, previous time here?"

Harry sighed. "Yes, I did."

"How... I mean, did you know her personally? Like...friends and all?"

Harry looked at her sharply. "What makes you think that?"

Daphne swallowed. "It's just that- when Tracy asked you for a trip to the broom closets, you have always rejected them at face value. And then you fight for my freedom, and everything-but-", she hesitated, "-your face, you looked like you were considering it, when Delacour—Sebastian Delacour informed you about his proposal."

Harry looked up skyward, almost wishing for help. Letting off a sigh, he answered. "Yes, I knew her, or at least I thought I knew." He looked at her, "she was my girlfriend. For over a year."

Daphne was stunned. Somehow a part of her felt that she knew it was coming. His initial deviances- his mannerisms- his going out of his way to ensure that the training regimens remained platonic at best- his sudden uncharacteristic behavior when Beauxbatons students arrived at Hogwarts- his sudden carelessness—his flustered look when Fleur Delacour had got up to talk to him- the expression on his face on seeing Sebastian Delacour that day- it all made sense.

It made perfect sense.

"You came back for _her_." She muttered slowly, as if she had lost her voice. Harry looked at her alarmed, but she continued, "you came back to save the world, but also for her. You _loved_ her. Or perhaps, love her even now."

Harry looked at her with a surprised expression. There was no point denying it. He knew he could divert it all but this was not a time for that.

"Yes. I came back for her."

A tear glistened in her left eye, threatening to fall down. Harry held her in his arms, as he continued, "But there is more to it. Much more to it. Give me a chance to explain."

Daphne did not reply.

"My previous lifetime, it was different. Completely different. I was a brat who was naïve, and knew next to nothing about the intricacies of the wizarding world. Yes, I loved her, and yes, I did come back for her, but then...things happened. Things which made me, and are still making me realize that my entire life was a lie."

'What do you mean?"

Harry stood up. "Dobby!"

A pop ensured and the hyperactive elf appeared. "Yes, master Potter?"

"Can you please bring me my pensieve from the study?"

"Of course, sir." The elf popped away, only to reappear in five seconds carrying an ornate pensieve in his shriveled hands. "Thank you Dobby! You may go."

The elf clicked his fingers and nodded, before popping away. He turned to Daphne and placed the pensieve down, the Room providing a pedestal to keep it on.

What's that for?"

"Some incidents are better seen than told."

Daphne shook her head in acceptance. Harry began. "You remember I told you how I had to save my godfather from the Dementors last year?" Daphne shook her head. "I did not show you the memory then, but if you want to, I can show it to you now."

Daphne widened her eyes in surprise. "Now?"

Harry smiled.

* * *

Hermione Granger sat alone in her dorm room. Ever since the start of the new session, a lot had changed. Especially in Harry Potter. He was no longer the boy who used to be her best friend—the boy who required her help in every single matter—the boy she had to bluntly force to open a book—the boy she had spent the last three years of school with.

Harry had changed.

For starters, he had really started paying attention to his studies. Hermione had been extremely happy about it as it showed that at least one of her best friends had taken her advice to heart. She felt good that she would now have one less person to nag over. Then, things began to change.

Almost magically, Harry's performance in class had risen. While she was always a good student, she was not necessarily the best in all subjects. Padma Patil of Ravenclaw and Greengrass of Slytherin had been tough competitors; but while she and the rest of the school had trouble keeping up with the fourth year syllabus, Harry seemed to breeze through it. The worst part, he did not even demonstrate his fullest potential—just enough to show himself as competent, never mind that the teachers were raving with pride at his developments.

It just did not fit in.

She might be bookish, but she was not an idiot. She knew something was off. For all her memorizing capabilities, she had to depend upon her summer's advance learning in order to give her best in the class. She had inquired about it from other pureblood girls, that a magical residence blocked the effects of the Ministry trace, helping the students to practice magic during the summer.

It was so unfair. Bigoted, barbaric policies of the wizarding world- it drove her mad.

However, Harry-Harry was an enigma. He had been brought up in a muggle home, and hence had none of the perquisites that other pureblood children enjoyed. He had always been an average student, enough to pass but not enough to get distinction from the professors. In a way, the feeling that she was better than the boy-who-lived gave her a sense of euphoria.

This year though, it had all changed. First, Harry had left the muggle home to live in his own family manor. Hermione assumed that he must have trained himself a lot to have such remarkable changes in him. Initially, that was what she thought. Then, her ideas underwent a drastic change.

He neglected her advice. It was completely inexplicable. Hermione had scoffed internally at that, telling herself that Harry would come home running to her, asking for her help on Arithmancy.

He hadn't. Not only had he been selected to remain among the fourth years, Vector had downright praised him for his knowledge. A part of her could not help but feel jealous that now she had a new competitor in the subject. A jealousy, which seemed to grow like Harry's performance in other classes.

A jealousy, which had spiked to insane levels when Mcgonagall had chosen him for demonstration over her.

The problem was—she had fallen headfirst because of hubris. Her over-confidence in her pre-learning had caused her shame in front of the entire class. She could still remember the arrogant smirk Greengrass had when Mcgonagall praised her instead of Hermione.

It felt bitter.

Very, very much bitter.

Then, Harry declared that he had entered into an alliance with Greengrass. Hermione had felt some uneasy vibes, but she had been so angry about it, she had refused to poke her nose into his matters. As it was, it seemed Harry was quite happy avoiding her-spending time with the Greengrass bitch.

Then, the Triwizard happened—Harry's name came out. It was almost expected, considering the changes in his behavior. His deviance, the sudden shift in personality, the arrogance, spending time with the bitch- it was bound to happen. In his arrogance, he must have put his foot in the mouth and entered himself in the Tournament- but how had he done that? Hermione had ideas, but she did not have any evidence. Besides, the cloak made him invisible to the eye; surely, it did not make him _invisible to magic_?

Something was wrong.

Then came the first task, and what a performance it was; but he had used dark magic. Dark magic in front of everyone. Suddenly everything became clear. His changes, his sudden spike in class performance, his friendship with Greengrass—his use of dark magic- something was very wrong with Harry Potter.

Very, very wrong.

"I have to figure out what is wrong with him!" she said to the solitary dorm room.

* * *

Daphne returned from the pensieve, her eyes glassy with shock etched on them. "You- those Dementors—you-" Harry looked at her amused, and held her hand, making her sit on a suddenly sprouted out couch.

"You have seen me with the dragons, and with Karkaroff, and now this. I hope you have got a measure of my power, right?"

Daphne nodded, not sure, why he was talking about it like that. She had never heard him _boast_ about his prowess before. Sure, he had been quite condescending during the initial days of training, but that was different.

She shook her head.

"Remember the initial moments of the memory?"

"You were struggling with your Patronus..." Daphne remembered, seeing him smile as the truth hit her. "What happened... you know, the previous time?"

Harry smiled and narrated the entire thing to her—how he and Granger had travelled back in time, and rescued Buckbeak and Sirius- Harry mastering the Patronus and driving the Dementors away—Sirius escaping—and how they had done it all and returned back in time.

"I cannot believe it!" Daphne yelled. "A TIME TURNER? A TIME TURNER?" she raged, "Mcgonagall gave Granger a time-turner because she wanted to take extra classes? And I had to work so hard to score while that bitch got extra Time-" she glanced at Harry, "I am thankful though, because it saved your life and all, but-", her face shifted from a scowl to a frown to downright frustration.

Harry watched her, amused at the way her face shifted colors and emotions, scarily reminding him of a pink-haired Auror he had known in the past. Clearing his throat, he continued. "I did not know about my Lordships and everything then, I was –just Harry, a simple brat with a very limited magical education. In my fourth year, my name came out of the Triwizard goblet and I was selected as Champion."

"Who was it that time?" Daphne asked eagerly.

"Barty Crouch Junior. There is a long story about him", he began at Daphne's surprised look, "but we will talk about it another time."

"But what if he is behind it this time too?"

"He isn't." Harry clarified. "He's dead. _Truly_ dead."

"You killed him", she returned, recognizing the feral glint in his eyes. Harry nodded subtly. She continued, "Do you know who it is, this time?"

He sighed reluctantly. "No. I am still at a loss. I have been trying to figure I out, but without success so far."

Her brows snapped together, Daphne looked up. "What happened after that?"

"The champions were the same the last time round. I was the fourth champion. The difference—I was weak, and lacking in skill. Fleur- well we met in the antechamber, she called me a little boy and insulted me then, calling me a liar and a cheater—the reaction of the houses were similar—Malfoy came up with those horrible badges", harry chuckled, "and the Hufflepuffs were totally infuriated with me. My own housemates considered me a traitor and casted me out-" the bitterness in his voice was prevalent, thought Daphne did not comment, "—moving on, I spent most of my time in unused classrooms and occasionally in the Chamber of Secrets, studying and practicing spells for the tournament."

"What about me?"

Harry looked at her sheepishly. "You- well you were this deadly Slytherin girl whom every person in school feared. I knew your name, and who you were, but that is all. I had Divination and Creatures and we never talked with each other in all our years at school. You are kind of...intimidating to me."

Daphne scowled and hit him on the arm.

"Come off it woman", Harry complained, "Don't get all violent on me."

"Tell me what happened after that."

Harry sat on the couch, his eyes filled with nostalgia. "Hagrid told me about the dragons. I shared the information with Cedric." At her frown, he explained, "I was a big believer in the sense of fair play." Daphne snorted and remarked something that sounded like 'Hufflepuff' but he ignored it. "At the first task, I got the Horntail, and I outflew him using my Firebolt."

"You WHAT?"

 _Crap._

Daphne sat down on the couch, her hands up her hair, muttering strange words to herself. Harry could make out 'Gryffindor', 'idiocy', and something about what she thought about the mental health of Quidditch players. Chuckling, he continued, "I got ranked first in the first task, just like now; though there was no firefight with the dragons then. I outflew it and collected the egg, finishing the task in record time."

"Diggory?"

"He passed the task, though he was last."

Daphne snorted. "Unchanged then."

"After the first task, things changed. The Gryffindors accepted me back, ready to cash in my glory; even the Hufflepuffs became less hostile considering I helped Cedric—Durmstrang was indifferent as usual, but well-Fleur's behavior changed and drastically."

Daphne frowned. "Show me?"

Harry looked at her from a corner of his eye. "If you wish." He showed her the memory of his flying over the pitch and the lake-Fleur's reaction-apology and shaking hands. Daphne felt a jealous vibe inside her but suppressed it. After all, she was the one who had asked for it.

"We became good friends. She was not his arrogant bitch she was with everyone else. If anything, she went out of her way to be nice with me. Being what I was-friendless and lonely, we became close friends. We went to the Christmas Ball together and-" noticing a pallor over her face, he changed track, "—the thing is- we became good friends. Then the second task happened and I saved her sister Gabrielle and things continued as they were."

"Then?" Daphne could not help but get more and more irritated.

"Are you sure you want to hear it all?"

"Yes." She snapped, "Now get on with it. I am _very_ fascinated in knowing how my boyfriend spent time with another girl in another life."

"Touché Greengrass."

"I will hurt you now." She promised with a scowl. "Now cut it off and tell me everything."

"Very well." He continued, "At the end of the third task, Cedric and I were the ones to touch the Triwizard cup and it portkeyed us to a graveyard in Little Hangleton. A place where Pettigrew was waiting with Voldemort to be resurrected."

"WHAT?"

"You have got to stop doing that!" Harry mock complained.

"Well I am _SORRY_ , this is just not normal for me!" Daphne bawled out uncharacteristically. Harry chuckled. "Would you like to see it for yourself?"

"Sure", Daphne drawled, "I would absolutely love how a fourteen-year-old had to face the dark lord all by himself. Nothing better for thrills."

Harry snorted. "Come. I will show you."

* * *

"You know buddy, Harry really made the Karkaroff guy land up on his arse." Seamus said as Dean and Ron snorted at his comment. "No really, just think- our Harry, he defeated the Durmstrang Headmaster, the students will stand no chance. The dueling Cup will be ours, you'll see."

"Too right!" Dean agreed. Ron just grinned, the mirth not quite reaching his eyes. Dean observed it and could not help but comment. "You know Ron, I know you are still hurting because harry chose Greengrass over you, but come on mate, you have to admit... she is a fine girl, with great assets. You can't blame Harry!"

"Too right!" Seamus added, much to Dean's amusement.

"Yeah", Ron muttered, "I liked that Veela too, and Potter just had to go and get her too."

"Heard they are to be betrothed!" Dean commented.

"Bagging a Veela. That boy is shit arse lucky!" Seamus complained, but Dean cheered him on.

"Good night guys!" Dean commented, as he and Seamus went up their room in the dorms. Ron nodded, and went into his own, where he, Harry and Neville had lived all these years. However, this year, Harry had hardly been in the dorm, what with the way he spent all his time with Greengrass.

 _Greengrass! That Slytherin bitch... she stole away his best friend from him. Now his best friend took away Fleur Delacour too..._

 _The Veela..._

Pause.

 _Best friend?_

Ron's lips twisted to form a maniacal grin, as his eyes burned with a red tinge in them.

"Hey Ron, everything okay, mate?" Neville asked from his bed.

Not looking back, Ron just shrugged, "Everything okay mate, everything is _perfectly_ okay!"

* * *

Daphne was shivering as she came out of the pensieve. She felt her legs give away but Harry held her in time.

"You—you were great." She stuttered. Harry chuckled.

"I was terrified. It was luck that I managed to get away from the place." He made her relax on the couch and hugged her from behind, making her sit on his lap. "Voldemort was right. Luck and Sacrifices were the reason that I escaped death so many times, until I decided to change the rules of the game."

"It was not luck, Harry." Daphne refuted. "You were a fourth year, yet you managed to lock him into a battle of wills. I cannot believe that a fourteen-year-old held magical power equal to the dark lord...you were great."

Harry just hugged and comforted her.

"What happened next? You know, about you and Fleur?"

Harry chuckled. "Well, she left with the Beauxbatons group, telling me that she would return back next year for a job in Gringotts to improve her English?"

Daphne snorted.

Harry looked up strangely. "What's wrong?"

"Fleur Delacour-one who has been sprouting expletives about Hogwarts and Great Britain ever since she has come, wanted to _come back_ to _improve her English_?"

Harry rubbed his temples. "I am afraid I never really considered it that way." Daphne scoffed. "I saw her again in sixth year, at the Weasley home. She was going to be engaged to Bill Weasley."

"WHAT?"

"You have really got to stop doing that!" Harry scoffed. Daphne cast an evil stare at him as he swallowed. Dark lord or not, that particular stare intimidated him.

"You said you were a couple, but this-" Daphne waved her palms trying to express the confusion in her mind, as words failed her.

"Who is this Bill Weasley? For the record, how many Weasleys are there again?"

Harry suppressed a snort. "Seven, plus the parents. Bill is the eldest of the children, and a curse-broker in Egypt."

"Curse-broker." Recognition flashed on her face. "It is an interesting profession." Harry looked at her with something akin to sadness in his eyes. Astoria Greengrass had once mentioned how she and her elder sister wanted to become curse-brokers. Astoria had been quite tight-lipped at the mention of her elder sister.

"What are you thinking?" she asked, noticing the dulled expression in his eyes.

"Nothing." Harry cleared his throat and continued, "Shall I continue?"

"What happened of her-Delacour, I mean?"

Harry closed his eyes. "Later down the year, I met her again, and well-she seemed kind of distressed. I always had some level of liking for her, considering how she was the only girl with whom I could ever relate. Then, she was older, and interested in Bill Weasley, so I decided to leave hope. Then, the oddest of things happened."

Daphne gestured him to continue with a single look.

"She broke up with Bill, and started to meet up with me more and more. She was in Dumbledore's Order of the Phoenix- a vigilante group that thought they were important in the fight against Voldemort-" he cleared it out for her, the scowl on his face demonstrating his thoughts about them-"and thus, we spent quite a lot of time in the summer holidays before our seventh year. The Weasleys were cold towards her-not without reason, I will give you that- but she was my friend and I owned the house so-"

"House? What house?"

Harry sighed. "At the end of fifth year, Voldemort set a trap for me. He sent me a vision in which he had captured Sirius in the Department of Mysteries, and was torturing him. I immediately set out for the Ministry. Neville, Luna Lovegood, Ginny Weasley, Granger and Ron Weasley followed me."

Daphne rolled her eyes. "And how did you do it?"

"Thestrals." Harry muttered.

"Come again?" Daphne asked dangerously.

"We went on thestrals."

"Six school kids, jumping on thestrals—flying to the Department of Mysteries to save Sirius Black-no, absolutely _nothing_ wrong could have happened."

Harry gave her a betrayed look. "He had Sirius, or at least that was what I thought. I did not ask the others to follow me. It was a trap, and Sirius came to my aid, but died to save me." Harry commented softly, "—after his death, I became the Lord of Black. The Black Townhouse in London, which was the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix- it legally became my home."

"Lord Potter-Lord Black—Lord Slytherin!" Daphne counted, "you know, I think marrying Delacour isn't that bad an idea at all," she drawled. Upon Harry's indignant look, she raised her hands in surrender, "-just kidding."

"Back to my seventh year, I had left with Granger and Weasley—Ron Weasley", he clarified, "for hunting horcruxes." He had talked about Voldemort's horcruxes with Daphne a couple of days before the first task. The girl had blanched in shock on hearing the despicable name. Being from an ancient neutral family, she had been given a thorough grounding in the dark arts during her sessions on family magic with her father.

"I still have difficulty believing that he created horcruxes."

"We hunted them for a year, and had destroyed all of them save one. It was March 1997. We were living in Potter Manor. I had taken up my Lordship and Potter Manor, being heavily fortified, we chose to stay there. We as in me, Fleur, Granger and Weasley. I had invited her over to stay with us, since she was insistent upon it the moment I told her that we were living in my family manor. I had joked that she must be jealous of Granger." He replied bitterly, "and now I am starting to think that it was no joke."

Daphne stood silent for a moment. "What happened then?"

"We were betrayed. Betrayed by the one we thought to be our friend. Our wards were comprised and our enemies set up a magical landmine in the very grounds of Potter manor, close to the ward stones. It was by chance that Fleur and I were strolling through the grounds at the same time, when it detonated."

He paused for a moment, the sounds of the explosion still ringing in his ears.

"I was heavily injured, but alive. Fleur nearly died, in fact, I thought that she had died, but she had just fallen into a magical coma... and then her father took her away. We were lucky that the detonation was not enough to destroy the ward stones, and thus we remained safe. Two days later, her father informed me by owl that she had passed away, and that I was not to come to France to see her body for the last time."

He looked up at Daphne. "He blamed me completely for his daughter's death. He had...for some reason, never liked that Fleur chose me, and after her death, he became bitter, much more bitter, and a troublesome foe in my later years."

Daphne nodded. "Who was the one that betrayed you?"

Harry grit his teeth. "It was Ron. Ronald Billius Weasley. That waste of magic and life was the one responsible for it all."

Daphne widened her eyes. "What did you do with him?"

"I obliterated him."

* * *

 **### Reviews please... (I know something you don't!)**

 **## Time for my answering review questions once again... I know you must be thinking..."WTF? Who is the time traveler then?" Well, keep thinking. It is a... well... umm...time to go to the review questions.**

 **#For the last time, please read Chapter 5. The wonderings about Harry's wand should cease immediately! Sheesh!**

 **# I cant help but be amused when I get to read about Fleur's magnetic attraction to Harry being compared to 'cuteness', 'height', 'charisma' and what not. But, I will not step on your reviews. I will let this chapter and the one that follows it to answer your questions for you.**

 **# I am shocked! Comparing Harry with Lucius Malfoy, because he called Fleur a Veela? My answer- please read the passage carefully. See Fleur's behavior. She always wanted to be more than the VEELA daughter of Sebastian Delacour, and yet... observe her reaction... "why would you want some other woman when you have me?" she said it knowing that Harry and Daphne are a couple. Now if Fleur and Harry were great friends, things would have been different. But they have been fucking playing ignoring-ignoring for the past month. What do you think of a woman who has just been forced into your life, and she tells that she will substitute the woman you love? Why do people of great Britain dislike Veela so much? Think.**

 **Harry calling her Veela is not out of bigotry. It is the amount of hatred in his heart. To see Fleur acting out as the worst caricature of 'A veela who steals others boyfriends'; to see that this was the reality of the woman he loved all his life... THAT, that made him insult her. PLEASE understand the significance of the situation.**

 **#Did Ron and Harry travel back in time together? Umm... I guess You got your answer.**

 **#You felt Fleur was the better person earlier in the story? Well, as I have often said, no character in my story will be only good or only bad. Even Daphne has her 'bitch' moments, trust me. As for Fleur, you saw her in a way I wanted, and often, through Harry's perspective. Now that the perspective has shifted, it is natural that the description will shift.**

 **#Heirloom Vault. Already addressed in PM.**

 **#Shifting of Fleur's personalities was rough? Tell you what, wait for the next couple of chapters and tell me again.**

 **#Semi-sorta-believable to just not? You have just read 100k+ words of a semi-sorta-believable story. I applaud you. Attraction to magical power is the same as being attracted to 'being cute, smart, funny'? Tell you what, if your girlfriend begins to divert away every time she noticed a more cuter, smarter, funnier guy... would you like it too? My point exactly.**

 **# Obsessed villain? I assure you, you have got it wrong. Fleur is no villain. She is just habituated with getting what she wants. There is a difference.**

 **# /wall of text? Thank you for such a constructive analysis of the chapter. It was inspiring.**

 **#Instant hate? I suppose the 'instant hate' has become 'not-so-instant' after the revelations of this chapter. Not yet? Wait for the next update.**

 **#Tell me again where you found 'smut'?**

 **#Hmm. I do not understand your question. Harry had political power BACK when he was a dark lord. Just because he time-travelled doesn't mean his political connections ALSO TIME TRAVELLED WITH HIM. make sense right?**

 **#Pureblood bigot? Oh wait I answered you already. Read above.**

 **#faint? Tell me buddy... you think that fighting Fiendfyre against Fiendfyre is funny? Or do you think that using it to subdue four dragons is just a plate of treacle tart? The dragons' case- he used an ancient earth spell, used a powerful shield, used Fiendfyre. You complain? Go read shit-arse-GOD! harry stories.**

 **Next case! he fought Fiendfyre with Fiendfyre, and did not FAINT, he got summoned into the death realm. Please read properly before recklessly commenting. Gryffindorish**

 **# No Harry DID NOT live for 30-50 years with Fleur in the past timeline.**

 **# Immature 17-year-old brat? Really?**

 **#Why no salvation for Hermione? You need to wait for that.**

 **Well, that's all for now. if I have missed some, please inform me. The next review-answer session will be after the next 2 chapters. Thank you.**


	25. Chapter 25 : The truth

_Daphne nodded. "Who was the one that betrayed you?"_

 _Harry grit his teeth. "It was Ron. Ronald Billius Weasley. That waste of magic and life was the one responsible for it all."_

 _Daphne widened her eyes. "What did you do with him?"_

 _"I obliterated him."_

* * *

"You..." Daphne hesitated, "You killed him?"

Harry sighed and stood up from the couch. "No, not just kill. Killing would have been too easy for the bastard. I hit him with a withering curse that caused his body to rot, and then sent a pulverizing spell at him. His rotten body withered off in the breeze."

"He-" she looked up at him, "I have no idea how you deal with it. Living in the same castle with him every day, seeing him every day and-"

"It does not matter. Most people here in this castle turned up dead. So as it is, I have this feeling all the time that I am living amongst future corpses anyway." He replied offhandedly, causing Daphne to reminisce about the way her life had ended. The memory of the spell, and the slice on her neck- she shuddered for a moment and shook her head, trying to get rid of the memory of her future self's death. Why her future self would have joined hands with some monster as Inferno Corporation was beyond her-it was a mystery, one she had no idea how to solve.

"What happened after that?"

"As I said, Sebastian Delacour prohibited me from entering his property and visiting her dead body for the last time. I was grieving; I was contorting in rage, wishing to kill myself now and then. I had lost the only person that was close to me. Hermione-she was a sister but not someone I could trust with everything. That was only Fleur."

Daphne frowned but did not comment. He continued. "After her death, I lost all purpose of living. My parents were dead-Sirius was dead-Arthur and Ginny Weasley were dead- Dumbledore was dead-nearly anyone and everyone I could think as family was dead. I was desolate, filled with hopelessness and misery, alone in the family manor."

"Granger?"

"She was shocked at Ron's betrayal. She was in love with that arse, and after all that deception, she lost heart, becoming silent. Then, we heard the news about people being attacked by Death eaters in Australia and she had to race there to try to find her family. I did not see her for the next month after that. Someone had to remain here to hunt for the horcruxes and so I stayed back. The Weasley twins accompanied her there."

"Then?"

"Alone in the manor, I deviated...I lost my sense of purpose, and was filled with only vengeance. The Potter family library- well let's just say that my family isn't as light as they say—I immersed myself into the darker aspects of magic, studying, practicing and going down the offensive path."

"What did you do?"

"I used his powers against him."

"As in?"

"The scar—my scar—it had a direct connection to his mind. I would peek into his mind, and try to know his plans, and then do my best to counter it. He had cast a 'taboo' over his name-a way to hunt down the resisting forces, and I used his technique against him."

"Like?" Daphne asked.

"I realized that I had a good affinity with fire, especially the Fiendfyre spell. I had learnt how to create anti-portkey and anti-apparation wards from the family library, and learnt how to tweak them using Parseltongue. Then, I used to set the wards at random locations, disillusion myself and yell out his name. Immediately, at least a dozen of death eaters would apparate in, triggering the wards. I set Fiendfyre inside the warded property and apparated myself out."

Her forehead puckered. "How did you apparate while the wards remaining active?"

"A Parseltongue password. Since only I knew the language, I could very well shout it out but none others could use it. I used the password, giving me an exit while the others burned inside. It wasn't overtly great but the idea worked."

"It was brilliant."

"It is hard to try breaking wards and resist Fiendfyre." Harry smirked, "one of my earliest battle strategies."

"Simple and efficient." Daphne praised. Harry nodded in gratitude and continued. "I continued that policy for quite some months, putting in a slight variation every now and then so that it didn't turn predictable. Since none of the death eaters escaped, it was difficult to ascertain what caused their deaths. I did my best to hide any circumstantial evidence. Given how Voldemort's ministry had declared me their 'Enemy number one', I thought it was a good thing to do. I thinned his army by half by that alone."

He paused for a breath. "A month later, Hermione returned, but the sad thing was—her parents were already dead by the time she found them. They were tortured, and then mind-controlled. The death eaters, they collected huge numbers of muggles—imperiused them and made them rape and kill other muggles-it was sadistic fun for them. Hermione-she was never the same after she returned. Externally, she was the same but there was this thing about her—an insane hatred about purebloods and the hypocrisy against muggles and Muggleborns, something that led to something devastating later on."

"Inferno Corp.?"

Harry nodded. "We-me, Granger, the twins—we infiltrated Hogwarts which was under the rule of Snape and the Carrows. Neville was leading the Dumbledore's Army and then-"

"What exactly happened to Dumbledore? You said he had died but-" Daphne intervened.

"Snape killed him. Death eaters had infiltrated Hogwarts to kill Dumbledore and Snape was in it all along. He was the one who killed Dumbledore from behind, killing with the Avada Kedavra. Dumbledore was fighting against the other death eaters and knew that Snape held his back. The traitor-" he hissed.

"Is that why- you know...?"

"Yes. He is going to take months to regain his sanity, and then, I will break him again. He will suffer pain, and loose his mind. Gain it back and then loose it again, until pain becomes his reality."

Daphne winced. "Remind me never to get on your bad side." Harry chuckled.

"What was that Dumbledore army thing?"

"In our fifth year, we had a ministry hag as DADA teacher who refused to teach us anything. Granger and other Gryffindors set up a meeting to form a secret study group and forced me up to teach." He chuckled at the old memories, "it was awkward at first, but it did help. All my students got great marks in DADA owls."

"That gives you a good future profession, unless you want to pursue the 'dark lord' career." Daphne mocked, at which he laughed. "Neville was leading the DA army as a resistance against the Carrows and Snape, while there was a different kind of resistance in Slytherin. Strangely, Malfoy was a part of the resistance."

Daphne raised her eyebrows. "Malfoy? Draco Malfoy resisting the dark forces?" she glanced at his eyes, "you are not having one over me, are you?"

"As much as I wish, Malfoy was my ally in the later years. In fact if not for your contract, I was thinking of trying to divert him." At Daphne's look, he explained, "I will have to use a different track now." Daphne nodded as he continued. "We took over Hogwarts. Neville and the remaining of the DA, they overpowered the death eaters, though they escaped. Theo, Blaise and Malfoy, they overpowered the supporters in Slytherin and took over."

"What about me?"

"I do not know. I did not see you or your sister during the fight. Even if I did, I don't remember, we had no interaction, remember?" Daphne frowned but shook her head. "We took control of the castle and found the fifth horcrux- the diadem, and destroyed it. The castle was ours, the defenses were set, and supporters from all sides had come to our aid."

"What happened then?"

"Voldemort made his move."

* * *

Albus Dumbledore sat in his office with Flitwick, Moody and Mcgonagall, discussing about the recent events. Ever since the first task, everything had been in a frenzy and all of that originating from one single student. Harry Potter.

The boy was truly an enigma. Not only had been demonstrated several ancient spells at the first task (his revelation about the Chamber was interesting, but Dumbledore believed that there was much more to him than just the Chamber) and then the duel with Karkaroff. The way he used his wand- it was like a war veteran, one who knew what to do and when to do perfectly. Things just did not add up.

"Something is different about young Harry and I cannot figure out what that is." He mumbled.

"Are you going to allow him for the dueling tournament? Given his skills, he would breeze through it all." Flitwick commented, causing Mcgonagall to glance at him. "You know I am telling the truth, Minerva."

"That boy should teach a few Aurors. His reflex and casting speed is phenomenal. I would not want to be on his bad side." The other two professors stared at him with disbelief. "What?" Alastor questioned, "You saw how he fought. It was like..."

"Professional." Dumbledore muttered.

"Yes."

"He was playing with Karkaroff, Albus. I could see it. Only when Karkaroff began to use the more deadly magicks did he battle seriously, and what? Ended it in what...a minute? That boy is more than what he seems, and my gut tells me that there is much more to him than all that." Alastor returned.

"What are you planning, Alastor?" Dumbledore asked suddenly, making the veteran Auror lookup surprised.

"What makes you say that?"

"You have been my friend for far too long. I know you, old friend."

Alastor chortled gruffly and then turned serious. "Just some little tests for him. I will tell you later."

* * *

"Voldemort made his move?" Daphne repeated.

"Yes, he attacked Hogwarts. I can show you the memory if you like."

Daphne considered it for a moment. "Not now. Later perhaps?" she asked, a bit reluctantly.

"Sure."

"Let us return to the original matter. About—you know-" for some reason, referring to Fleur, as Harry's dead girlfriend seemed strange to her.

Harry's eyes hardened for a moment. "What is it that troubles you?"

Daphne sighed. "This- you told me that you—you loved her", the statement hurt more than she expected, "—that you were broken completely on her death—and", she paused, "—you also told me that you came back for her."

"Go on." Harry could see where it was going.

"Then—why—you know-why, damn this is difficult!"

"Say it!" Harry countered his tone almost harsh. Daphne could see his fingernails cutting into his skin, as he clenched his fist tightly.

"Why did you choose to be with me?" she finally yelled out. "Why didn't you-oh I don't know- get her to fall in love with you once again? You fucking did not know me at all in your previous life as a person, only as some merlin-damned mercenary. You should not have made me fall in love with you. You should have just stepped on my feelings and returned back to your French princess!" Daphne was fairly shouting in the end.

"I would have done that. I would have done that very thing exactly." Harry spoke bitterly. "I was madly in love with her. I knew that you loved me, that you cared for me, and that you were dependent on my support. I am not blind. I saw you hide your feelings from the first day, but I was selfish. I was ready to squash it all- I almost squashed it all."

"Why didn't you?" Daphne asked in a whisper.

"Because that day when you saw my dream- I realized that my entire life had been a lie." Harry whispered bitterly.

"What do you mean?"

No answer.

"Harry answer me."

He just stood, clenching his fists. Blood had begun to seep through the bruised tissues. Daphne strode towards him and hit him on the chest. "Answer me, damn it."

"I have some queer powers. One of them is to bring back the soul of the dead and talk to him or her for a moment."

Daphne just gaped. "Don't joke with me."

"I am not." He looked up at her. "If you wish, I can show you the memory."

"Sure." Daphne drawled, not convinced at all. He walked up to the pensive, drew out the memory of the event from his mind and dropped it into the swirling liquid of the pensieve.

"Join me." He uttered, before vanishing into its depths. Daphne followed him in quick succession.

* * *

She found herself standing in a strange chamber—one she had never seen in her life. The walls were lines with serpent effigies with ionic pillars constructed parallel to each other on either side of the main hall. A humongous figure of a man rose from one end of the vast desolate hall.

"Harry, where are we?"

"Chamber of Secrets."

"The Chamber?" Daphne could not believe her ears. She was actually standing in the mythical Chamber of Secrets...

"I will show you sometime." Harry commented, almost as if he had heard her thoughts. Daphne nodded briskly in gratitude. She looked over and saw a memory projection of him standing in the centre of the hall, next to a makeshift bed, holding a piece of parchment in his hands.

"Oh Merlin, I am a mess." Memory-Harry spoke to himself.

"Merlin has nothing to do with your mess."

Daphne whirled around, mirroring memory-Harry's actions, and spotted an ethereal figure standing there. The face it looked very, very familiar. Then it hit her.

"Hey Potter."

"Theo...How...Wha-"

"Very articulate, Potter."

 _Theo. Theodore Nott. From the future. Dead._ Daphne observed.

Memory-Harry controlled himself and replied, "How are you... you know..."

"Here?" Theo countered, "You are the Master of the Hallows. You should know... I just came here, because your powers told me that I needed to be here. Now pray tell me Potter, what exactly are you doing? I died so that you could-"

"I know, so that I could change the past and-" Memory-Harry began. Theo scoffed and continued, "To hell with your thoughts. I died so that you could live, damn it."

"What?"

"Great. Tell me Potter, did you hit yourself in the head during the Time-travel? I died so that you could live. Because if you live, you will be able to set things right. Our team, our circle, remember. Gabby, Susan, Neville even Draco has been scoffing in the afterlife looking at your idiotic behavior."

"I know- I lied to you all—I wanted to save Fleur and-"

"And what Potter? Shit happens, we move on. Stop being a right prat and get up. You are a dark lord damn it. We saw what you did to Raven, and I am very proud of the way you took her under your wing. You gave her a chance to the future she did not get previously. What I cannot understand is the reason behind you behaving like a moron and being distant from her!"

"Because Fleur-"

"-is her own independent person. You cannot make her love you. You are just chasing behind an old dream, and ignoring your own present. This Fleur is not the one who was your girlfriend. Never will be. Your actions changed the time stream too much for that. Daphne loves you, damn it. And yet you are completely blank about it, running behind an old dream of you and your Fleur."

Memory-Harry seemed to ponder over something for a moment before he looked up at his brother's form and smiled. "I will do it correct this time, my brother. Thank you for setting me right."

Theo smirked as the ethereal form began to fade away... slowly.

"Give them hell, Potter."

"I will."

Daphne turned back to Harry and shrugged. "What? I do not hear anything different."

"Hold on." Harry answered- his face a blank mask.

Memory-Harry looked at his brother's fading form before his reluctant smile turned back into a frown. Clenching the letter in his hand tightly, he muttered. Loud enough for Daphne to hear it.

"I will live for myself, but Fleur-I cannot betray her. She died for me. I cannot just-"

"You are a fool, Potter."

Memory-Harry looked up to find Theo reappearing again. "You are a fool. I tried to deviate you, but you are just too adamant, aren't you?"

"What do you mean, Theo?"

"I mean this— _Master of Death_ , use your powers and figure out the truth. Then, I hope you will have enough mind to achieve your own salvation."

 _Master of Death?_

Daphne turned towards her boyfriend, who simply mouthed 'later'. She turned back at the proceedings.

Memory-Harry just looked at Theo, stunned.

"Go on, try it." Theo taunted.

Memory-Harry closed his eyes, as a grayish aura settled like a cloak all over him. "Fleur Delacour." He chanted.

Nothing happened.

"Fleur Delacour." He tried again, much to an angry smirk on Theo's face. Harry turned at his former brother, "What is happening? Why can't I summon her?"

"Use your mind, Potter. You can summon the spirits of the dead. If you cannot summon Delacour, then it means..."

"She must be alive." Daphne muttered, as the revelation hit her. She glanced back at Harry whose hardened eyes tried their best not to shed tears.

Memory-Harry just stood dumbfounded. "She is-she is alive..."

Theo did not reply.

"TELL ME!"

"YES, SHE IS ALIVE DAMN IT! After she was injured in the attack at your home, her father took her away to France. She married Bill Weasley, who broke off from his family and took the Delacour name."

"No..."

"YES, that is the truth. Her father married her away and she did not fight his decision-Bill Weasley told me. Why do you think he always avoided having a conversation with you?"

"You are lying..." memory-Harry whispered- his cheeks drenched in tears.

"Then call her soul. Call her spirit back- You are the master of Death, not me. I am simply telling you the truth!"

"Why didn't you tell me before?"

Theo paused. "I was scared-I was scared about your reaction."

"Then...why would Sebastian-"

"Sebastian Delacour is a bastard. A ruthless, sanctimonious bastard. He shows that he cares for the world but all he cares is for himself. As for why he did what he did- I cannot answer."

Memory-Harry dropped down on his knees. "It was all a lie... it was all a lie..."

"Let's go!" harry muttered, waving his hand as he and Daphne returned to the Room.

"She... she cheated on you, faked her death and married Weasley?" Daphne whispered, unable to believe what she had just seen. "Harry-"

No answer came. The Room was empty. Harry Potter...was gone.

* * *

 **### A short chapter, but I suppose it fit best. Did you enjoy the revelations? As always, reviews please.**


	26. Chapter 26 : DUEL

_Memory-Harry dropped down on his knees. "It was all a lie... it was all a lie..."_

 _"Let's go!" harry muttered, waving his hand as he and Daphne returned to the Room._

 _"She... she cheated on you, faked her death and married Weasley?" Daphne whispered, unable to believe what she had just seen. "Harry-"_

 _No answer came. The Room was empty. Harry Potter...was gone._

* * *

Harry reappeared in the library of the Chamber of secrets—the memory of the event had had an effect on him worse than he had anticipated. Of course, that was not the full memory—there were many more revelations later in the conversation but as Salazar had told him-that particular timeline had been destroyed because of his actions, and had been assimilated in the time-dust of the endless time stream.

 _At least Daphne does not have a reason to doubt my feelings any longer._

He weighed his situation carefully. His actions ever since coming here had been quite... unpredictable and Gryffindorish. Much more than what he was used to. Demonstrating powerful spells and techniques, playing with his opponent- it was something plain Gryffindorish and not something the dark lord Potter would have done. It was almost like...

He was a little kid suddenly blessed with superpowers.

 _Damn! Is this an effect of the soul fusion?_

Harry concentrated inwards...focusing on the Death realm. He was the Master of the Hallows, and the successor to the Salazar's mantle. Salazar would definitely have the answer to it all. He closed his eyes and focused.

* * *

"I see you have already begun abusing your position. Visiting my realm every now and then like a whiskey bar..."

Harry opened his eyes to find Salazar staring at him, a mocking expression plastered on his face.

"I wasn't abusing it. I had some questions and I-"

"Decided to hound me into giving you answers." Salazar sighed mockingly. "Very well, tell me... how may I _waste_ my time on you?"

Harry narrowed his eyes at the pointed insult, but let it go. "Why has my behavior changed so much? I don't remember being so...Gryffindorish"—Salazar smirked at the words-"before. It is almost like I have become a kid again, living in the Gryffindor dormitory."

Harry paused. "Is this because of the fusion?"

Salazar smirked. "There is a famous proverb in the mortal realm, started by no other than the famed inventor and mage-Nicholas Flamel, which describes your condition excellently. I believe you are yourself quite... acquainted with the proverb itself. It deals with man's futile efforts to control time."

"Bad things happen to wizards who mess with time..." Harry whispered to himself. Salazar looked at him mockingly. "I did this to myself, didn't I?"

"Yes, you did. You did not take into account the fact that your past soul could be a problem. You did not take into account that the merger could influence your personality."

Harry stood silent. "But not everything has been bad. The rise in power has been good. Plus I can do the ancient spells much more easily."

"The ancient spells have got nothing to do with your power. Yes, your power does help matters, but the ancient spells are a part of the arsenal of the Master of Death-the guardian protector against the dark forces of the endless time stream."

"Dark forces?"

Salazar sighed. "You do understand that there are much more varied, powerful and destructive things out there... more than Death eaters, dementors, dragons and nasty dark lords right?"

Harry nodded blankly.

"Someday you will know all about them. Someday when you rise up to the mantle, I will teach you about them. There are entities that can snap your little world into two halves with nary a thought, there are legendary beings that pervade the dimensions spanning across the multiverse. Demons and all sorts of nightmarish creatures, which can make your worst dark lords look like puny entities and so much more. There are the realms of the gods and the devils and the innumerable different dimensions and dimensional beings."

"And you?"

"I am just a protector. The protector of the mortal realm against these powers."

"I cannot imagine."

"You are right. You cannot imagine the grandiose that is the multiverse, but someday you will. For now, you will have to learn how to dive into yourself-understand the certain links between your young and old soul, and learn how to effectively use both. That is your mantle at the moment—Harry Potter."

* * *

The world faded into inky blackness as Harry found himself standing back in the Chamber of Secrets. He sat down on a chair and considered his situation.

"For now, there is the second task to take care of. I have to figure out who put my name in the goblet. I need to formulate a plan about getting the Hufflepuff cup out from Gringotts and then- kill Voldemort, preferably with witnesses around. I will need that kind of popularity to ensure my win against Delacour."

A recent memory came to mind.

 _ **"You won't be able to see them anymore. That time stream has been obliterated and absorbed into temporal fields. What remains now is the future you create."**_

 _ **"Kill Voldemort." Harry emphasized.**_

 _ **"Yes, but not only. Many more powers endanger the world. Powers much greater and much more terrible than Voldemort. Powers that now know of you and your prowess, now that you have demonstrated so much in public." Salazar ended his statement with a scowl. "For a dark lord and a lord Slytherin, you definitely possess Godric's streak of showmanship. Really? Fiendfyre against Fiendfyre?"**_

 _ **Harry scowled back. "The village was warded against apparation. Too many people were there. I couldn't possibly-"**_

 _ **"But you could have ended Karkaroff quickly. No, you just had to play with him until the last moment. For a dark lord who has already been taken down more than once, you refuse to see the phenomenal powers of hubris."**_

 _ **Harry did not reply. He knew that he could have ended Karkaroff easily and within seconds, yet he had decided to give everyone a show. He had nearly gotten them killed in his desire to grant them a good show.**_

 _ **"You are right." He finally confessed.**_

 _ **Salazar smirked at him and answered. "What is done is done. See that you take care of the dangers threatening the world, and then when you are ready, you will have to take on my mantle. The mantle of the Master of Death."**_

"Lots of work than to sit around moping about Fleur."

He popped away.

* * *

The intra-House round of the dueling tournament had officially begun and today was the first round of elimination in Gryffindor House. As was expected, nearly almost everyone had signed up for the dueling round. Mcgonagall had given them a sharp tongue-lashing about their apparent 'treating the dueling event like child's play' and something more along those lines. Finally, she had consented to thirty-two students as formal participants. The selection process had raised a few voices and mutterings, but one piercing stare from the old cat animagus had silenced them all.

Among the thirty-two participants, the majority were from fifth year and above with only twelve from the third and fourth years. Harry had stayed silent (and mostly away) during the elimination. The others were considerably shocked when he had suddenly announced that as he was already the Triwizard Champion, it would not be fair of him to take up another spot in the dueling event as well. Mcgonagall had initially smiled at his decision though others could swear they had seen the old Transfiguration mistress frown in disappointment later on.

After three days of rapid elimination rounds amongst the four houses, the results had been laid out. From Slytherin-Draco Malfoy, Augustin Pince, and Daphne Greengrass had been selected. From Hufflepuff, Cedric Diggory, Susan Bones and Martha Fleece were the contestants. Ravenclaw had Su Li, Roger Davies and Antony Goldstein as their champions and finally Gryffindor had Angelina Johnson, Fred Weasley and surprisingly, Ron Weasley.

Finally, it was time for the main declaration- the final schedule of the dueling matches between the three schools. Durmstrang and Beauxbatons had already submitted their own names for the tournament and everyone was expecting the Triwizard Champions to be participating in it as well. There were floating rumors about the Bulgarian seeker being a professional dueler himself and Fleur Delacour was already a famous name in the under-19 dueling circuit.

The schedule was drawn and leaflets of the schedule had been distributed to all participants, not including the large banner that had been put up on the great Hall for everyone's ease. An elimination round in which the students had been randomly paired had been drawn up, with the three Triwizard Champions being a part of the contestants. The only question was-where was Harry Potter's name in the list?

The answer to that question came from different people and came with different twists as the different answerers tended to add their own personal opinion and imagination to the answer. The rumor about Harry Potter's dueling prowess, coupled with the deadly fight with the dragon and with Karkaroff had settled it within the minds of everyone that Harry Potter would be a very, if not the most dangerous opponent of all. Some of the more bigoted Hufflepuffs and Slytherins had spread the rumor about him being reduced to a squib after the fight with Karkaroff. Yet there were some who maintained the fact that Harry Potter was afraid to duel, since he would lose. They had gone up to even boldly proclaim about how the fight with Karkaroff was jinxed from the start and everything. A few conspiracy theories about Wrackspurts and Nargles was also heard among the circulating rumors.

One thing however was clear-Harry Potter was not participating in the dueling tournament.

* * *

"Fulminis."

A significantly thick fork of lightning shot out of Daphne's wand towards Harry who simply raised a powerful deflector against it. He dodged the second offensive spell chain and sent out a swarm of bats towards her who simply raised a full body shield to protect herself from it. Harry took this opportunity to fire a high powerful rupturing curse that broke her body shield, landing her down on the ground with a thud.

"That hurt!" Daphne complained, rubbing her bottom as she stood up. "That was cheating, you know. Using conjuration suddenly in a curse-fight."

"Of course, after all your opponent will be the epitome of Hufflepuff, isn't it?" Harry countered. Daphne withheld countering it with another biting remark.

"I know, but", her face shifted into something innocent; "did you have to hit me so hard?" Harry smirked. "Do you need me to give you a rub?"

"No thanks." She countered, a tiny red sheen appearing on her cheek. "Why aren't you participating in the duel?"

Harry paused and then turned towards her. "What exactly would I gain by doing that?"

Daphne had her next question ready but his answer caught him off-guard. "What do you mean?"

With one flick of his wand, the entire dueling chamber vanished while a couple of couches materialized out inside the Room. "Those students out there—I know I can defeat them effortlessly. You know I can defeat them effortlessly. I know I am still a fourth year, but- the fact remains I have several years of experience under my belt. I was rather hoping that this event could be used to gauge your level of competence in dueling."

"Mine?"

"Yes. I need to see if the entire time I wasted on teaching you, was of any good or not." He mocked. Daphne scowled and sent off a pain curse, which Harry dodged, laughing.

"What will you do in the meanwhile then?"

"Well, my next event is due in February, so that leaves us a lot of time, considering it isn't Christmas yet. That reminds me", he walked close to her and held her in his arms—"will you grant me the pleasure to accompany you to the Yule Ball, as your partner?"

Daphne's eyes widened instantly, as she processed what he had just said. Nodding subtly, she tried to speak out, but her throat constricted. "Yes, I will", she replied in a throaty voice, the sudden surprise getting the better of her.

"Great." Harry stepped back. Daphne felt disappointed as she missed the feeling of being in his arms. "Now that that's done, there are a couple of things I need to take care of."

"Regarding Voldemort?"

Harry nodded.

"What?"

"I will tell you later. I will also be off for a few days, using my station as excuse for family business. There are some questions that I need answered, and staying in Hogwarts is not going to get those things done. I will be away for a week but will return before the semi-finals begin."

"You aren't going to be there to see me dueling?" Daphne could not but feel a bit disappointed.

"Of course, I will. I said I will be there before the semi-finals, didn't I?"

"But what if-?"

"Are you telling me that you are not confident that you will win the damn thing?" harry asked with a straight face. "Keep on winning the duels, and I will see you in the semi-finals." Daphne just bobbed her head silently.

"When are you leaving?"

"Right now." The words still reverberated in the Room as Harry Potter turned incorporeal, fading into the air in front of her.

 _Damn!_

* * *

Harry reappeared on the grounds of Potter Manor. This method of travelling using the Hallows was quite tiring, and the more the obstacles on the way—the more it used energy to fuel the transport. Nevertheless, it was quite advantageous—since no wards could stop him.

"Sirius?" he yelled.

A sound of rushing could be heard on the first floor as he saw his old man rush towards the balcony. Sirius appeared over the edge of the balcony, his eyes filled with mirth and happiness at finding his godson down on the ground-he shifted into the grim which leaped down instantly, shifting back to his human form just as he reached the ground. The shifting was so perfectly synchronized that Harry wondered if even he had the same synchronization. After all, he could never have had a lot of time in his own forms due to his injuries.

"Showing off godfather?"

Sirius grinned as he walked up close and hugged his godson. "How are you, Prongslet?"

"I am good, Sirius. Yourself?"

Sirius gave a roguish grin. "Not bad. However, it does get lonely in here after some time. Except the elf, I have no one to talk to."

Harry gave an understanding nod. "So how are you passing your time?"

"Learning."

Harry gave him an interrogative look.

Sirius just smiled. "Your grandfather—Mr. Potter Senior, he had taken me in, and made me a son of House Potter. I have the permission to access the library."

"Right." He had lived for so many years, and yet, there was so much that he did not know about his own family—Harry pondered. "You look good, Sirius."

Sirius just shook his head. "The healing helped." He cast an odd look. "Why did you bring me back here from France suddenly?"

"It's... it's a long story. One I will tell you later, but first, I need your help."

"Anything, Pup."

"I will be away for two days, and I need you to do something for me in the meantime."

Sirius nodded with a bright smile.

"I want you to go to Gringotts and claim the Black line."

Sirius' smile fell instantly. "Harry, I have never wanted to be a Black. You know it. Why do you insist on pushing me back to that wretched family?"

"Because it is your birthright. You should be the future lord of your family."

"My mum cast me out."

"Was it official?"

Sirius was ready to affirm it, but stopped short. "I... never got a formal missive about it."

"Well, I think it is time to check it all up."

"Why do you want me to be the Black lord so much?" Sirius asked, irritated at his godson's petulant behavior.

"Because I need your help as the Lord of Black."

"I can just give you my lordship, you know. Use it as you wish. I do not really care. I think of you as my son anyway."

Harry just smiled. "Thanks Sirius, but I already have more than enough on my mantle. You need to be the new Lord Black and fast. Then, I can work on getting you a fair trial."

Sirius' eyes widened. "Are you serious?"

"No, you are." Harry deadpanned. Sirius jumped with glee and hugged his godson hard. "There is still hope for you, Prongslet. I will make a marauder out of you yet. This summer I am planning to teach you to become an animagus."

Harry smirked. "I am afraid you are a bit late, old man."

Sirius recognized the look on his face. It was the same one James had when executing a perfect prank. "Don't tell me, you are already an-"

"You have your tricks. I have mine." Harry teased, his eyes filled with mirth.

"So what is it? Some kind of deer? A dog?"

Harry raised his eyebrow. "It is a cat."

"A cat? Too bad, it is not a dog. I could teach you to play fetch." Sirius replied disappointedly.

"Well you can always improvise." He winked. "Fetch!" he shifted into the black lion and roared.

"YEAA-AAAAA!" Sirius yelled, falling on his buttocks as he landed on the ground with the thud. Had anyone seen Harry now, one would have claimed to see a lion laugh his arse off.

* * *

"WELCOME TO THE FIRST ELIMINATION ROUND OF THE DUELING TOURNAMENT!" Lee Jordan commented aloud, attracting the attention of the spectators of the dueling tournament. Everyone was sitting on the stands of the Quidditch Grounds as the main Quidditch ground had been converted into a makeshift stadium for the dueling tournament. The main stadium had been divided into separate dueling-rings for the elimination round to finish off quickly. The thirty-six contestants had been randomly divided into six groups, each of six contestants each. Group A would fight with the contestants of Group B, Group C with D, and finally Group E with F. This elimination would yield out eighteen participants who would once again be sorted into two teams, and would duel, producing a grand total of nine.

That would move to the next round of elimination. The contestants would have to hold up against an Auror dummy provided by the DMLE for the event. The contestants would have to stand their ground, one by one and keep on attacking and deflecting spells until either the dummy was down or they were incapacitated. Depending upon the time each contestant stood up against the dummy- eight participants would be chosen out of nine.

The remaining eight would move into the quarterfinals and duel each other-being divided into two group of four each. The winning four participants would move into the semi-finals with the winning duo facing each other in the final showdown. Everything was ready and set up, and it was time for the event to begin.

Daphne patiently waited in one of the six contestant tents set up for the contestants to wait until called. Her first match would be against Antony Goldstein of Ravenclaw, and she knew that the boy was quite good at defense. The bell rang, and she left the tent, patiently awaiting the first dueling round. It was no different from her dueling competitions, she whispered to herself.

"And now, the next match will be between Daphne Greengrass—Fourth year Slytherin versus Antony Goldstein, Fourth-year Ravenclaw. Let the duel begin." Lee cheered, followed by a similar eruption from the crowds.

Flitwick was refereeing the duel. He walked up midway between the two duelists. Daphne stood straight, her left leg slightly in front of her right, almost as if she was going to run; while Antony stood stiff—his wand thrust up forward like a sword.

"Three, two, one-DUEL!"

"PROTEGO!" Antony roared. Just as the formal dueling format was, he set up a defensive shield first before moving to attack. Daphne had also been trained somewhat similar all her life until she had faced the most unconventional teacher to be her trainer. Harry had asked her to skip all such erroneous notions.

" _Treat the duel like a fight to the death. Do not wait. Do not waste. Go quick and end it quick."_ Harry had taught her.

Daphne thrust her wand forwards and sent up a blasting charm towards Antony who focused on his shield. The blasting curse hit the shield with a Bang, pushing him backwards. Daphne took advantage of it and showered him with a blast of oil, followed by a quick bludgeoner, pushing him back as he slipped on the oil and fell down. One quick _Expelliarmus_ later, Daphne secured her position for the next round.

"AND GREENGRASS WINS! That was bloody fast, ladies and gentle-wizards, and now time for the next match—Susan Bones versus Angelina Johnson." Lee commented from the stands.

Daphne entered back into her tent, and felt a single pair of blue eyes stare upon her. She tilted her head slowly towards the source to see the calm and calculating eyes of Fleur Delacour staring at her.

"Good duel. You should be glad." Fleur commented. Daphne plainly shrugged. "It wasn't difficult."

"Yes, I suppose. I do not see Harry anywhere, though. Considering how much time you too spend together, it is kind of odd...you know", Fleur commented offhandedly, looking at her well-manicured fingernails as if they were the most interesting thing in the world. She glanced back at Daphne sharply and continued, "Or is it because he doesn't want to see you fall and lose before me? Of course, considering you make it all the way at first."

Daphne stared imperiously at her for a moment. "Harry is...away for some reason. As for my skills and abilities, I believe I will show them where it matters. Don't you think that a more _Slytherin_ thing to do?"

Fleur scowled at the indirect insult upon her, considering that the Delacours were descendants of Slytherin himself. How dare this girl pretend that she was more Slytherin than she was?

"We will see. You know, I watched you, in the dueling match at France. You are good, for a _little girl_ , I will give you that. Why don't you just... leave it and let the adults play the game?"

Daphne just stared at her. "I guess- we will need to find it out, don't we... Princess?" She observed the sudden scowl on Fleur's face at her comment.

 _I guess I am not the only one who doesn't like to be called Princess._

Daphne marched out of the tent, thinking to have another glass of butterbeer before the next round.

* * *

"Fleur?"

Fleur did not turn back, realizing the voice. Her friend Caroline walked up to her. "What's happening, fleur? I have never seen you be so... antagonistic towards anyone so much." Caro confessed.

"She... she just brings out the worst in me." Fleur grit her teeth.

"Is this about Harry Potter? Merlin Fleur, I don't know what is going on, but ever since Harry Potter has entered the scenario", Caroline gushed, "You—you've changed. You are acting so- _odd_ , and I don't know why!"

Fleur turned back and raised an eyebrow. "Whatever do you mean?"

"Oh don't do that with me Fleur Delacour. You know exactly what I mean. Before this- you were you, struggling to survive and reach the top—become the top duelist and enchantress—but now- I saw you that day with Harry Potter in the Great Hall—you were-"

"I was what—Caroline?" Fleur hissed.

Caroline swallowed, not sure what to say.

"Say it." Fleur hissed. "I was-what?"

"You were pushing yourself at him. Anyone with eyes could see that Potter loves that Greengrass girl. You-you straightaway told him that he should forget her because now he has you."

"I said no such thing." Fleur stated imperiously.

"Well that's all semantics, but the underlying message was clear." Caroline looked at her sharply. "I know he called you a Veela. His voice was full of hatred as he said it."

Fleur stared sharply at her best friend. "I know very well what he said to me." She replied icily, all traces of her usual demeanor gone. Her blue eyes shone with a crimson sheen as she felt the inner creature try to rise out of her. She focused on her usual calmness and controlled herself.

"Do not think that you understand what I feel and what I think. Whatever I did, it was for a reason. A very important reason. Just stay out of this."

Caroline stared at her best friend. "I hope you know what you do." She turned back and went outside the tent, leaving Fleur alone to herself.

* * *

The first round of elimination had selected eighteen participants who were now subdivided into two groups of nine. As unfortunate as it was, Daphne and Fleur were once again casted into the same group, making sure that they had zero chances of facing each other.

"Your luck will drain out soon, little girl." Fleur hissed, as Daphne simply smirked. "Believe me; you have no idea how much I look forward to that." She turned away as she looked towards the other group. Draco Malfoy and Ronald Weasley (as surprising as it was) were in the other group, she observed. As incompetent as Weasley appeared to be, he had performed surprisingly well in the last round, defeating a Beauxbatons' boy named Eric McGill.

 _He has his lucky days too, I guess._

The new schedules were drawn and up for everyone to see. Daphne was going to be facing Susan Bones—the petite redhead of Hufflepuff and importantly, the niece of the DMLE Director. It was a given that the petite redhead was not just all red-hair and big-bosoms. Daphne figured that the other girl must surely have had private lessons in Defense and dueling. Her eye traced through the crowds and fixed on the figure of the DMLE Director Amelia Bones herself, seated in the crowd.

 _Interesting._

"Three, two, one... DUEL!"

Susan went forward and sent off a quick succession of stunners and pain curses at Daphne, who expertly weaved through the incoming barge of spells. Never defend with a shield when you can just weave through it- another lesson from her tutor and boyfriend. She moved gracefully but steadily as she drew nearer and nearer to the redhead.

Susan seemed to realize that her technique was not working and focused on the way Greengrass was moving towards her. It was almost predatory, considering how the other girl had yet to cast a single spell. She changed her track and began casting wide-area stunners and blasting curses, knowing well that Daphne would have to change her tactics now.

Daphne saw the wide-area stunner and the blasting curse draw close and did the one thing that came to her mind- her lithe body fully charged with the adrenaline rush; she gracefully bent her legs in a crouched manner only that her body seemed to almost touch the floor. The spells flew over her head, as she took aim and used the opportunity, sending off a bludgeoner towards Susan who toppled down, not expecting an attack from Daphne like that.

Another quick Expelliarmus and Daphne rose higher into the tournament.

'The girl is nice; you have to give her that." Caroline whispered. Fleur just narrowed her eyes as she peered at the girl who held the chords in Harry's heart. "Yes, she is."

"I have heard that Harry Potter personally trains a lot with her, and considering Potter's fight with Karkaroff- you should be wary." Fleur shot a look at Caroline that promised pain, as the other girl rambled. "I mean, she can have some hidden skills up in her sleeve."

"She is good." Fleur replied- her lips tightly shut against each other.

"Where is Potter, by the way?"

"I don't know." Fleur hissed, "Now let me concentrate."

* * *

The third round of elimination was about to begin as the finalists centered themselves on the stage. Nine contestants- Victor Krum, Fleur Delacour, Caroline Beaufort, Draco Malfoy, Roger Davies, Alexander Rostov, Devin Prince, Ronald Weasley and Daphne Greengrass. Ronald had surprised all of Hogwarts by his excellent performance so far, considering how he had defeated Martha Fleece in the second round of elimination. Perhaps the youngest Weasley boy wasn't so useless after all.

Daphne looked up at the organizers making changes to the stadium, and placing the Auror Dummy on one end. The contestants were made to sit in one tent, and each person would come up one by one as their names were called, and hold up against the dummy. After every single attempt, the dummy would be reset and the next participant would be called out.

"Draco Malfoy!"

The Malfoy scion walked up straight and proud-the Slytherins yelling and cheering for him as he stood in front of the Auror Dummy. It was no different from the ones the Room of Requirement usually procured for Harry—just that this was from the Ministry and had its own quirks.

"Begin!"

The Auror Dummy rose to action as its metallic hands, each holding two wand-like objects, thrust out and began hurling spells right and left. Malfoy dodged when possible, tried to weave through but mostly he held out low-powered shields when blasting curses were hurled towards him. The dummy seemed to get faster and faster with each passing second as the influx of spells became more and more random, and then at one minute and eleven seconds, Draco Malfoy found himself incapacitated and wandless on the stadium floor.

Soon Ronald Weasley took the stage. The boy had been performing unexpectedly well and people were now interested in what new trick Weasley would pull out of his sleeve. The dummy activated and began hurling spells but Weasley had apparently decided that it would simply dodge to the best he could. As the dummy became faster and faster, the dodging technique failed to work as Weasley was put down at one minute and nine seconds, extracting a quick smug look on Malfoy's face. Ron looked flustered, but he shook his head remarkably in a dog-like fashion as he left the stage.

"VICTOR KRUM!"

Krum walked up to the stage, wand in hand as he placed himself ready for the show. The dummy activated as he carefully weaved through the spell chains, often intercepting them with his own. With an excellent combination of offensive spells and shields, he managed to hold back the oncoming attack for two minutes and eight seconds before the incoming barrage overwhelmed him.

* * *

Dumbledore, Moody and the rest of the professors from the 3 schools sat on the judges' table- the term 'judges' was actually a misnomer, since they weren't really handing out points or anything- the game was simple and completely mechanical. An elegant timer was set up which measured the time duration for every contestant and registered them on a big screen. Magic was indeed a fantastic thing.

"I have to say, Potter surprised me. I did not think he would skip out of the tournament. I was rather expecting to see him duel." Moody exclaimed in his usual monotone. Dumbledore chuckled. "Young Harry is indeed the most unconventional young man you would happen to meet, Alastor. He is not even here at Hogwarts."

"Where is he?" Alastor asked plainly.

"Away." Dumbledore replied. "He had put forward a request to be away on House Business. I certainly could not say anything to that. Besides, as Triwizard Champion, he is entitled to do as he deems best for his next event, and that includes getting out of school if required."

"That boy is an enigma."

"That he is Alastor. That he is."

* * *

Fleur Delacour had just finished with her round, having lasted for a new record of three minutes and twenty-one seconds sharp-an enviable goal for anyone planning to beat her. She walked gracefully across the stage, her lips twisting into a sneer as she passed Daphne. "Your move." She whispered, as she went past her.

"Our next contestant and the final one for this round is Miss Daphne GREENGRASS!" A multitude of cheers rose up as the notorious Ice-Queen walked up to the stage.

 _This should be fun!_

The dummy activated and began firing with full power, increasing in its frequency with every ten seconds into the fight. Daphne used her wand like a baton, using one simple technique that her tutor and boyfriend had taught her.

 **FLASHBACK**

"The art of deflection is quite undermined by duelists and fighters, because of the availability of a variety of shields available." Harry began as he walked in circles around her, just as he resumed his 'tutor' mode, or as Daphne thought it to be.

"But I do parry the spells", Daphne complained, a slight amount of trepidation in her voice.

Harry looked at her. "Parry this."

He whipped his wand out and in one single continuous arc, he threw out a quick succession of stunners and banishers, all pointed towards her person. Daphne tried to parry the first stunner that came her way but had to resort to shielding herself.

"I give up. Move on."

Harry smirked. "The art of deflection is different from parrying. When you parry a spell, you use a miniature shield to somehow bounce the oncoming spell to shift to some other random direction. However, that has its own drawbacks."

Daphne put down her wand as she listened to him. "Since parrying is technically using a miniature shield, it is not possible to parry a large number of spells at short notice, as you demonstrated so efficiently." Daphne looked down embarrassed at his indirect pointed remark, but stayed silent. "Another drawback of parrying is that it is completely useless against wide-area spells."

It was true. Daphne had never been able to use parrying against wide-area spells like slashing hexes. She assumed that it was because the miniature size of the parry shield was not enough to deflect the wide-scale attack."

"Hence, Deflection." Harry continued. "A technique which when honed the right way, can not only parry away incoming spells, but also do it with a minimal loss of power. Observe."

He whipped out his wand again and looked at her. "You have full permission to use any spell, curse or hex that you might feel like, as many as you like, with the obvious exception of the Unforgivables. I am going to defend only using deflection."

There were moments like this when Daphne had a slight suspicion that her tutor overestimated himself or underestimated her abilities. She nodded with a jerk of her head and slashed out with her wand, sending out a veritable flood of curses-banishers, slashers, severing hexes and bludgeoners. She even shot out a number of wide-area severing hexes into the lot.

Harry seemed to stand in a trance as the spells raced towards him. Then suddenly with lightning fast reflex, he whipped his wand close to the closest banisher to him and traced an arc in the anti-clockwise direction-his wand emanating out tiny bristles of energy as he traced the arc. Then it happened.

Daphne watched with shock as her significant array of spells suddenly shifted midway, the banisher suddenly deviating from its path towards the rest of the incoming horde, causing what was effectively a spell collision. Smoke filled the arena between them, but Daphne could clearly see Harry standing there, his wand downwards hanging down his palm—free and casual as always.

 _Damn!_

 **END OF FLASHBACK**

The spells hurled from the dummy raced towards her as Daphne held her wand tight. She narrowed her eyes to locate the purple strain of the reductor racing towards her from one end of the incoming flood of spells. She focused some of her energy on her wand tip as she traced the reductor's path skillfully, in perfect imitation of the way her tutor had demonstrated, curving it into a clockwise arc. The reductor deviated its way colliding with the rest of the spells, keeping her safe from harm.

* * *

"Did you see that?" Alastor urged. "That girl just demonstrated a perfect deflection, Albus."

"Yes. Splendid performance. Flawless. Won't you say Alastor?"

"I bet." The old Auror remarked gruffly. "Who do you reckon taught her that?"

Dumbledore looked at his old friend and smiled.

* * *

The audience were astounded at Daphne's performance. Not only had she managed to stay unharmed, she had used the dummy's technique against itself. The dummy, being the mechanical artifact as it was-kept on going ahead with the same technique, though it got more and more faster and more erratic as time progressed-though it did not really matter to Daphne. Erraticism was not something that had any effect on deflection; if anything—any erratic array of spells were more susceptible to be used against itself and hence, deflected even more smoothly.

After two minutes and forty-three seconds, Daphne decided that she was done for the day as she suddenly cast a powerful ' _impedimenta'_ towards the dummy, which hit perfectly, slowing down the dummy to inaction. Her head held high in response to the cheers all around, she walked down the steps towards the tent.

Daphne walked down the dais as she neared Fleur who was sitting on one of the chairs. She slowed down almost in reflex, enough to pass a comment without being too distinct. She got closer to the buxom Veela and whispered-a mocking smile on her lips as she said—"I made my move. Your turn." She did not even wait to see the dangerous look that flitted across the Veela's face.

The scheduling for the new Quarterfinals had been drawn, and were put in for all to see. Devin prince from Durmstrang had been the one to be eliminated. The remaining eight had moved up for the next round. Daphne found herself facing Malfoy in her match, while Victor Krum would face Caroline Beaufort. Fleur would fight against Alexander Rostov while Ron Weasley would fight against Roger Davies. Whether by the strange machinations of Fate or not, it seemed that she would not be fighting against Delacour even in the coming match.

 _I am in the Quarterfinals. Where are you, Harry?_

* * *

Harry apparated in the midst of a desert town in Cairo. The Shatanuf market here was the biggest magical marketplace in the entire world-both in size and variety. To some, it was the place for thieves and mercenaries; to some it was the place to collect inestimably powerful artifacts; to some it was the trader's dream while to some it was a source of the world's largest collection of necromancy and other dark arts. Harry however, had come here to search for something different-or rather someone.

He stepped in front of a rather dilapidated looking shop with an old Phoenician rune edged on the surface of the door. He pressed it open-the door moved forwards with a creak as the dark indoors revealed themselves to him.

"What do you want?" A rather monotonous voice reached his ears. Sitting opposite the closed window on the right, was a disheveled looking man—an Arab by the looks of it.

"Am I speaking to Morganstien?"

* * *

 **### AAAAAnd finally I am done. SHEESH! I was way too busy being embedded...in various activities lately, causing a deficit of my writing time. Anyway, I got myself a free day and decided to wok on it. This is my longest chapter in the story and I ended it before it got eve more longer. Hope you like it. And as always... review, review, review...**


	27. Chapter 27 : Slytherins

_He stepped in front of a rather dilapidated looking shop with an old Phoenician rune edged on the surface of the door. He pressed it open-the door moved forwards with a creak as the dark indoors revealed themselves to him._

 _"What do you want?" A rather monotonous voice reached his ears. Sitting opposite the closed window on the right, was a disheveled looking man—an Arab by the looks of it._

 _"Am I speaking to Morganstien?"_

* * *

 **FLASHBACK**

"Plans changed, Dobby. Here are my orders. Do not under any circumstances; let anyone know that I am here. I may send you for some shopping. In the meantime, I want you to purchase some... stuff from the Egyptian Markets. Do you think you can do that for me?"

Dobby nodded. Good.

A day later, he was ready with a list for Dobby, a list of things he needed. There was also one more thing that was in his mind, though he was debating on whether Dobby would be the right person for the job. Finally, he decided to take the chance.

"Dobby, there is one more thing I want you to do. Can you search for a particular person and let me know of his location? I believe he can be found somewhere in Egypt, presumably in one of the markets."

The elf gave an excited nod.

"Very well. I wish you to find me the location of a man who goes by the name of Morganstien."

The elf suddenly turned stiff.

"What happened Dobby?"

"What does Master want with the Lord of the- I mean, the necromancer?"

Harry raised his eyebrows. "What can you tell me about him, Dobby?"

Dobby vehemently shook his head. "We House elves cannot talk about him. It is the law. We cannot, must not, will not talk about him."

"Even if your master commands you to?"

Dobby shook his head.

Harry sighed. "Can you at least track his location for me?"

Dobby nodded.

Good.

 **END OF FLASHBACK**

"Am I speaking to Morganstien?"

"Do I owe you money?"

Harry smirked at the evasive answer. "No, but you might make some if you aid me in my quest."

"Then yes, you are speaking to Morganstien."

Harry chuckled lightly, entered the shop, feeling the dangerous wards at the door cave in, giving him entry. He was sure that had he not been welcome, the wards would have fried him the moment he set foot inside the room.

"What brings you here?"

"I am in quest for a tome—a particular tome which I believe you have access to. I need it, and am ready to negotiate the price for it."

The man, Morganstien-gave him a curious look. "And what tome might it be?"

Harry held out a tiny slip of parchment, and levitated it towards him. The man caught the parchment, his eyes widened as he read the name.

"I do not have access to any such tome. Get out of my shop." He sounded almost hysterical.

Harry sighed. "Look, I am not intending to use the book for the powers inside them. I intend to know how to counter it in case someone actually performs the forbidden rituals inside it."

The man vehemently shook his head. "I told you, I do not know what it is you speak of. Get out from my shop." Harry felt the wards suddenly change and consider him a threat. He knew he needed to act quickly.

"I have access to a phoenix who even donated me fresh tears willingly."

Bait. Harry thought. It was something he had known from his study into the dark arts. The phoenix was a creature of light and purity and for one to donate his tears to a wizard—it said volumes about the wizard's character. Nothing was a better proof of a person's character than that.

The man stopped shaking, and looked up at him, perplexed. Whatever rebuttal he might have been expecting, this was not it. He considered the situation once again. "How do I know that you are not lying?"

"The tears are in my blood. I can freshly donate you three drops of my blood for you to check it, given you swear an oath that you shall not use my blood for any other purpose." Harry intoned. The last thing he would want to do was intentionally donate his blood to a necromancer.

For the first time, the man smiled at him with a toothy grin.

* * *

"You were amazing, Daphne!" Tracy gushed. "I think even Potter would have a tough time trying to beat you down in a duel." Blaise who was standing next to her even shook his head in acknowledgement. "Nice performance, Greengrass."

Daphne smiled. Not a smile of satisfaction, but of humility. Tracy had absolutely no idea about what Potter was, or his true powers and abilities. Whatever she knew at this moment, it was because of him, and Daphne knew it very well that even now she did not know what his true strength was. Yes, he had confided many of his secrets to her, but there were still more questions to which she had no answer. The primal question among all being- what was that thing about being the 'Master of Death'?

She wished Harry would give her an answer to those, but for some reason, he had evaded answering them—telling her that he would share the facts with her sometime later in the future. Daphne as always, did not try to force her argument on him anymore—it would be futile anyway.

Tomorrow, the quarterfinals would begin. She would be fighting against Draco Malfoy-who, for all his faults, had proved himself a good duelist and a proper competitor so far. However, considering everything-there was just one person she had found her fussed on defeating.

Fleur Delacour.

Triwizard Champion. Under-19 dueling champion. Veela. Enchantress. Ruthless, knowledgeable and highly cunning. Then, the most important thing-the person who was trying to take away Harry Potter away from her. The person who had cheated Harry in his last life.

 _I will not lose to you, Delacour._

* * *

"Fleur?"

"What is it now, Caro?" Fleur snapped. She had been in such a spoiled mood ever since the morning. Given how it would be the quarterfinals tomorrow, her mood was not turning out to be any better.

"Will you tell me what it is that's bothering you so much?"

"Nothing is bothering me." She snapped again.

"Of course." Caroline countered sassily. Fleur looked up at her with indignation and sighed. "What do you want, Caro?"

"Just to know what my friend is so troubled about." Caroline confessed. "I have seen the sudden changes in you ever since you arrived here, and I have seen its effects. I just want to know what's happening."

"Nothing that I can tell you. It is family business." She snapped. Looking at the disappointed and hurt face of her friend, her expression changed. "I am sorry Caro, but I am being stretched out into too many things at the moment, some _without_ my intent. That is all."

"I- I understand."

"Thank you." Fleur closed her eyes, hoping to contain the single tear that almost rolled down her cheek.

* * *

"Even if I had this tome", Morganstien bartered, "what could you possibly give me that could make me even remotely consider selling the book to you?"

Harry considered it. "I can give you many things, but I wish to hear what might interest you."

Morganstien smiled. "And are you willing to let me have it, the item that interests me?"

"I will consider it."

Wise words. Morganstien thought. "Very well. There is one thing that takes my fancy. If you can bring me that, then I shall barter the tome."

"And what is that?"

"A single piece of wood, at least seven inches long from the Yggdrasil."

Harry frowned. "That is impossible. That tree is just a myth."

"So are demons. And yet, here you are."

Harry considered it, and framed his next words carefully. "I can give you my word that I will get you a piece of wood, seven inches long from the Yggdrasil. However, that will take some time, at least two years for me to do it. However, you shall need to hand over the tome to me right now."

"Will you give me a magical oath?"

"I will."

Morganstien smiled. "Very well Harry Potter, if you wish to take two years, so be it. Then again, it does take a considerable amount of time to take up the mantle of Death." He ignored the growing amount of blank shock that flitted across Harry's face. "What... Harry Potter?" he asked, amused at the young man's expression.

"How do you know who I am?" Harry questioned.

"Oh come now, Harry Potter- you come into an accomplished necromancer's den, you desire to acquire the book of resurrection, and yet you are surprised that I know of you?" he countered amusedly. "I know of you, I know of your predecessor Salazar Slytherin, as well as of the mantle you are readying yourself to take."

"But-how?" Harry gasped.

"You worry about acquiring the Yggdrasil first, worry about my little nuances and chunks of knowledge later on." He smirked. Suddenly, his expression turned serious. "Give me your oath."

Harry gave him the required magical vow, causing the man to stand up and leave the front room. He returned after five minutes, holding a tome in his hands, covered with a red silk cloth. He handed the tome to him, whispering in some obscure language as he did. The tome glowed softly.

"That will keep you safe from the distractions of this tome."

Harry nodded and uncovered the tome, removing the cloth from the surface. There, engraved on the surface were the words...

' _ **Arcana de morte perpetua'**_

 _ **Secrets of the everlasting death.**_

"I do not know why you fear about demons, considering that your predecessor stands guard against their entry through the hallowed portals of the mortal world, but... be vigilant." He muttered. "Now off with you Harry Potter, or should I say...Peverell." He snapped.

Harry looked at him blankly as he apparated away, nodding in gratitude.

* * *

"WELCOME!" Lee yelled into the megaphone, as the cheers answered his commentary. "Welcome to the quarterfinals for the dueling tournament. Today, our eight champions will be facing each other, and from them—the four winners shall move forward to the semi-final matches. Both of the events shall be held today with the grand finale to be held tomorrow." A roar of cheering rose after his announcement.

The stadium had shifted. Gone were the circular rings on the hard ground in which the participants had to fight. This time, the arena looked very different. It was a large square rocky terrain, the length being around at least thirty feet. A huge battleground, for a duel. Huge chunks of rocks were fallen on the ground, creating an uneven terrain.

 _A battlefield perfect for Transfiguration._ Daphne mused.

"The first match is going to be between Daphne Greengrass and Draco Malfoy!"

Cheers abounded the entire stadium as the two duelists arrived at the center of the rocky terrain. Flitwick was refereeing once again. The two duelists stood stiff against each other, and gave each her a bow. Daphne gave the usual standard bow while Draco gave a head jerk.

"Please take your places."

The two duelists moved away to their opposite ends, occupying a position such that there was at least a fifteen feet distance between them.

"Rules are thus. No Unforgivables allowed. Even the attempted casting of one shall lead to disqualification and expelled from Hogwarts if you are a Hogwarts student. Application of the dark arts is also not allowed. Other than that—everything goes. You win when your opponent is incapacitated. No time limit. That is all."

The two duelists nodded.

"Now... Three, two, one...DUEL!"

"Furnunculus!"

"Explodio!"

The two curses from both ends shot towards each other, pummeling into each other midway causing a dense multicolored smoke in the center. Draco raised an elaborate shield and began hurling severing hexes towards Daphne who seemed to have conjured some kind of metallic shield on her hand, using it as her defense as she weaved through the curses. Draco seemed to be relentlessly firing offensive curses towards her, hoping to overpower and overwhelm her. Daphne however, seemed content to dodge, defend, and let Draco tire himself.

"Attack me, Greengrass!" Malfoy spat. "Or are you too weak to do so? Potter is not there to save you here, I take it." He frothed. Daphne rolled her eyes as she kept on dodging around, with the occasional deflection spell, using Malfoy's own spell chains to create a collision and get some more smoke.

"Attack!" Malfoy hissed in anger, as he whipped his wand, hurling two questionable rupturing curses towards her. Daphne knew that her shield would not be able to hold them off and hence firing two wide-area blasting spells on the ground- smashing the rocks into multiple pebbles, which rose above on the ground. A quick 'impedimenta' and the floating rocks were a sound barrier against the incoming attack.

"What an amazing counter by Daphne Greengrass!" Lee chanted. "Using the stadium as a defense was inspiring."

Daphne smirked, looking at Malfoy's sour look. The teaching of her tutor came to mind.

 _Keep dead silent during the duel. Do not give away anything. It makes your opponent feel frustrated because of his inability to bring out any reaction from you. That frustration causes them to make mistakes._

She whipped her wand in circular loops, releasing an exorbitant amount of energy outward. "Reducto!" she whispered, as a wide-area reductor curse hit the ground, raising innumerable number of pebbles and broken rock fragments into the air above them. She supplied her entire power as she thrust her wand forth.

"Oppugno! Ventus maximus!"

It was an interesting trick—one of her own inspiration. Usually, the spell would be used with the 'Avis' spell—a neat transfiguration spell that created a flock of tiny birds out of air. The 'Oppugno' spell acted as a propellant for the birds towards the opponent—not a powerful attack, but more like a distraction. The ventus spell was one, which created a single gust of wild wind. Daphne had combined the two spells to create a powerful wind that could hurl out larger and heavier things towards the opponent. It was a reasonably good technique, considering how Draco found himself at sea on facing the innumerable number of rock particles shooting towards him.

"Protego maximus!" he roared, hoping that his shield would be enough to hold them back. Daphne took advantage of the opportunity and fired a couple of rupturing curses back towards Draco. The curses tore through his shield, leaving him completely vulnerable to the incoming horde. Caught by surprise, Draco hung on to his shield but as expected, it gave out before the attack was over, leaving him vulnerable to the barging rocks. A score of the pebbles hit him in the abdomen, making him cry in pain as he fell on the floor. A quick disarming charm followed by an Incarcerous, and Draco was outwitted completely.

"And Daphne Greengrass wins! Ladies and gentle-wizards, our first semifinalist. A huge round of applause."

Daphne bowed humbly as she walked down the main battleground.

* * *

"That was one awesome duel, Daph!" Tracy congratulated. Daphne just nodded and smiled in appreciation. She looked up to find the dueling ground being attended to by the organizers, who were busy casting spells—rendering the terrain back to its original form.

"Our next duel is between Fleur Delacour of Beauxbatons and Alexander Rostov of Durmstrang." Lee exclaimed. Rostov was famed to be an outstanding dueler and his performance so far had attested to his skill. On the other hand, Fleur was no slouch either. No matter who won it, this match promised entertainment.

The two duelists took their spots as Flitwick repeated the rules to them.

"Three, two, one...DUEL!"

"Bombarda!"

"Concido!"

The spells began splashing against each other as the two opponents circled each other like two predators, each sending a spell that collided with the other creating multi-colored spectra in the center of the terrain. Fleur fired off fireballs while Rostov whipped his wand and hurled out enormous showers of water using the aguamenti charm. One thing was clear—the duo were evenly matched.

Fleur dodged and weaved effortlessly through the incoming barge, using her Veela skills and her flexible lithe body to greater advantages. Rostov however, seemed to be a believer in static dueling techniques. He stood his ground, preferring to use combat spells and shields instead of dodging. It was a good technique if one knew what he was doing.

Fleur slowly moved towards him—her random weavings making her approach less distinct and giving her more time—she kept on firing exploding hexes and wide-area banishers, the main idea being to keep her opponent focused on the incoming offensives. For an inexperienced person, it might seem that she was getting predictable, but for the experienced eye, it was vividly clear what she was doing. A powerful banisher, followed by severing hexes and then bludgeoners and then surprisingly a disarming move. The spell combination was not powerful, but what was the real problem was the counter. The different spells were wisely chosen—considering how their counters required completely opposite wand movements. It was not difficult, just time and attention consuming. Therefore, while it might seem that she was getting predictable and limited in her casting, the judges could see what she was doing very clearly—she was laying a trap.

"That conniving magnificent bitch," murmured Daphne, as she realized what Delacour was trying to do. Tracy rounded at her for her sudden use of profanity, but Daphne's eyes remained glued to the match.

Rostov realized that his opponent had been successful in approaching excessively close towards him. Being a static dueler, allowing the opponent to draw closer was a Big NO-NO! He immediately resorted to a more powerful offensive chain and tried to push the girl backwards. Unfortunately, fleur already had him where she wanted. She whipped her wand downwards and using a complicated transfiguration spell, she transfigured the rocks into two raging bulls, which bellowed and drove towards Rostov, catching him by surprise.

Taking advantage of the opportunity, she raised her left hand and hurled out two large fireballs. Rostov banished the two fireballs using a lot of raw power in his propulsion spell, but unfortunately, that left him vulnerable to the raging bulls. Caught completely off-guard, he did not think and raised his wand towards the oncoming bulls.

"Caro comedenti." He yelled. The flesh eater curse was a powerful severing curse, used originally by butchers to kill animals effectively without making them suffer a lot of pain. However, in 1975, a group of terrorists used the same spell to murder people, resulting in the conscription of the spell as a dark arts spell. Just as the spell struck the incoming bulls, it sliced them off neatly into two halves each, killing them instantly.

"DISQUALIFIED!" rang the loud voice of Madam Maxime, while Dumbledore shook his head in acceptance. Flitwick walked up to the stage, disbanding the duel instantly. "You used a conscripted dark arts curse in the duel, knowing very well that it was against the rules. You are henceforth disqualified, making Miss Delacour the winner.

Daphne watched with widened eyes as Rostov shook his head and walked down the stage. The conniving bitch! She thought. Delacour had set the trap in such a way that Rostov would not be able to focus and make such a mistake. The distraction, the sudden fireballs and then the two bulls—it was all a bait and Rostov had made a fine catch.

"FLEUR DELACOUR MOVES INTO THE SEMIFINALS!"

"Very _Slytherin_ of you, Delacour." Daphne could not help but mutter.

* * *

Harry apparated back onto the grounds of Potter manor, and then popped into the study. The tome in his hands- it was _'the single most priceless'_ thing he had in his hand- the answer to his lifelong question. How did Voldemort summon demons, and how exactly could the process be undone?

The book would stay safe in Potter Manor, at least for now. He would have to study it in depth, and figure out the answer to his quest. Once he was done- there was another barter, he intended to perform-one, which he had no wish to do.

The entire idea had begun with one single story. A story that related he had read from the journals of Salazar Slytherin.

 _The story of the Veil of Death._

Apparently, there had been one unnamed necromancer who was so very twisted in his mentality and powers, that he had even forced Death himself (or the then Master of Death, Harry mused) into handing him the secrets of Death-the passages through which powerful creatures like demons could be summoned from other dimensions to do one's bidding. How the necromancer had managed to do so- it was still a mystery.

However, the necromancer managed to achieve the required information and created a book with it-the same book that Harry now held in his hand. It was believed that the necromancer used the information to procure a ritual that would enable him to summon demons at will, but for some strange reason, the ritual had failed before it could complete.

He had designed a huge archway through which, the demons were supposed to appear into the mortal realms and do his bidding. For unknown reasons, the ritual failed and the aftermath of the ritual blasted the necromancer into shreds, obliterating him on spot. The archway however-the entrance to the hallowed realms of Death, remained intact-something that later came to be known as the Veil of Death-an ancient artifact hidden away in a top-secret chamber inside the department of Mysteries.

Whoever was flung through the veil never returned, and the answer was clear-a person falling into the veil would simply leave the mortal realms forever. As for where the poor soul would reach, there was simply no answer.

Harry held the tome in his hand tightly.

"This time I will destroy Voldemort before he has the chance to summon demons. This time I have the information I did not have the previous time. This time, things will be different."

* * *

Ron Weasley stood opposite to Roger Davies, his wand held tightly in one hand. Roger Davies stood on the other side, smirking at having to fight a fourth-year. This was going to be too easy, Roger thought.

"A piece of advice Weasley, bugger off already. You are here to lose."

Ron did not reply.

"Three, two, one...DUEL!"

"Bombarda!"

"Reducto!"

"Expelliarmus!"

"Confringo!"

The two duelists kept firing spells and hexes towards each other, dodging and running to avoid each other's attacks. Neither of them were great duelists and it was quite understood from the way their duel lacked grace. Roger simply batted away spells using his shields and parrying while Ron shot combat spells in return. The Weasley boy was indeed shocking everyone with his knowledge of spells, considering how everyone thought him to be a slacker and a dumb idiot in class.

Ten minutes of constant barraging and spell collisions later, Ron Weasley fired a powerful blasting curse that took Roger by surprise. He never saw the stunner that followed.

"Ron Weasley wins! Moves to the semi-finals!"

After another round, Victor Krum stood while Caroline Beaufort lay unconscious on the rocky terrain. His Neanderthal way of reacting to crowds showed itself as he just nodded bluntly while holding Caroline's wand in his hand.

"Victor Krum wins the final quarterfinal match, moves to the semi-finals!"

* * *

The champions were chosen-Daphne Greengrass, Fleur Delacour, Victor Krum and surprisingly, Ron Weasley—the four contestants for the semi-finals as they stood on the stage. Daphne kept her normal, aloof self while Victor and Fleur—being the celebrities that they were- smiled and nodded their heads, while Ron Weasley simply grinned, not contrary to his usual casual self.

Ludo bagman walked up on the stage, towards the contestants, holding a small red bad in his hands. "This bad contains four numbered balls. Two of them are numbered 'one' and the other two are numbered 'two'. Every contestant will pick up one ball; the two duelists having the same number shall duel. Is that clear?"

Everyone nodded.

Daphne went ahead and picked her ball. She was at number '1'. Fleur got '2'. Both turned towards each other shortly, almost amused that they would not be facing each other even in this round. Victor got a number '2' while Ron picked up the remaining '1' ball.

 _Looks I get to face Weasley this time._ Daphne thought.

"I am finally in the semifinals." She muttered to herself, looking at the crowds all around her.

 _Where are you, Harry?_

* * *

 **### and now, just one more chapter awaits for the completion of the tournament. I decided to keep the semifinals and the finals for one single chapter. Please follow, favorite and review.**


	28. Chapter 28: Vengeance

The semifinalists were ready, the battleground was being shifted once again and the audience were roaring in delight at the entertainment provided by the dueling event. Whatever was going to happen, and whoever might win the contest—one thing was clear. The duel event was an overnight success. Already many private sponsors had been spotted in the crowds, some event managers and business agents talking to the professors about the prospective duelists they were interested in.

The new battleground was set-and it was on ...was that ice? Murmurs and speculations ushered among the audience. The organizers seemed to be doing anything and everything to make sure that the event promised entertainment. Instead of the rocky terrain, the entire battleground was one extremely large and wide block of ice.

"This is certainly new!" Daphne thought. Dueling on ice... she had never really done that before. It was a good thing that she knew some basic charms that could rough out her shoes a bit, increasing the friction between them and the ice. On second thought, she held her wand to try transfiguring her shoes into something better, but it would be problematic if the transfiguration reversed midway during the duel. No, she would have to stick with what she had.

"A SURPRISING CHANGE BY THE ORGANIZERS!" Lee commented, "The entire battleground is now solid ice, though Mister Bagman holds firm belief that the ice is very strong, and not easily broken." Bagman stood up and bowed, but unsurprisingly, Daphne did not take the man at face value.

"Well... no point complaining when you have a job to do..." she muttered.

"Best of luck, Daph!" Tracy supported, to which she nodded and smiled.

"It's Weasley, after all." Tracy teased. Daphne grinned back.

 _Yes, it is just Weasley after all. Nothing to worry._

 _Right?_

* * *

Daphne stood on one end of the battleground. Fifteen feet away on the other end, Weasley stood, holding his wand stiffly in his palm. He sent a mocking smile at her, to which she returned cold indifference. Weasley just smirked and twirled his wand in his fingers.

 _Something about him bugs me..._

"The duel is going to start any moment now, ladies and gentle-wizards" Lee commented from the background. Daphne focused on her wand in her hand and cleared her mind. A random glance at the audience, but nothing worth notice.

 _Harry is still not here. I wonder..._

"Daphne Greengrass, Fourth-year Slytherin versus Ronald Weasley, fourth-year Gryffindor... is this going to be a battle between the rivals that the two houses have been for so long?" Lee urged, and unsurprisingly, the Houses cheered their own. Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw remained indifferent and chased for their individual favorites.

 _Something is off about him. Weasley is...different._

"Are you ready to lose, Greengrass?" Weasley taunted.

 _Now he is taunting me. He has stayed mightily quiet throughout the event._

"Three, Two, one...Annnd DUEL!"

"Confringo!"

"Reducto!"

The two powerful blasting curses hit each other midway, beginning the battle between the two rivals. Ron seemed intent on continuous offense, what with the way he kept on firing blasting and severing hexes towards her, making it slightly difficult for Daphne to come to the offensive.

Ron's sneer deepened as he fired off.

"Bombarda maxima!"

A huge shaft of blinding light progressed towards Daphne, who knew that her next move could make or break. A random idea came to her, something she had done with Harry during her sessions. She whipped her wand towards the floor and focused.

"Ventilabis propellere." A sudden gust of wind shot out of her wand, shooting her upwards into the air. She managed to rise above the plane of the curse, but only just. It was odd, knowing that the spell was enough to lift her by at least ten feet into the air. Then she remembered.

 _The ice._

She looked down and saw the ice layer crack. Apparently, it was not as strong as Bagman had claimed.

 _Moron._

She could avoid the curse but the energy radiating from it left her a bit shaken.

 _I have to do something._

"What happened Greengrass? Getting tired already?"

 _How is he continuously firing so much? An adult could do it, but a teenager... especially Weasley of all people..._

Daphne twisted her lips in annoyance. A sudden idea came to her mind. An old trick. She whipped her wand and began casting bludgeoners and severing hexes at high speed alternately, causing Ron to move to defensive. A trick that always worked. As expected, Ron was busy trying to counteract the two different spells simultaneously, and since the counters had opposite movements, he seemed to have some trouble trying to come up with an offensive spell.

"Seems like Potter has shown you some tricks, isn't it Greengrass?" he sneered.

 _Yes, he did, but this is my own._

She ran towards him, firing banishers and severing hexes at full power, her metal shield in one hand, ready to counter any sudden offensive move. Ron was still having trouble handling the offense as Daphne progressed towards him. His face demonstrated frustration- something that Daphne spotted as she progressed and increased her assault—running towards him.

 _I have him. I just need to reach a little bit closer._

* * *

Ron's face was still frustrated, his wand busy countering the spells with combat spells and shields alternately and turned sourer at Daphne's incoming attack as she ran towards her. The audience cheered excitedly as they watched Greengrass move towards Weasley, sure that a couple more spells and Weasley would be hurled off from the battleground. It was then that it happened.

"ARUSPICES EXPELLERE!" Ron sneered as he yelled. Daphne widened her eyes in fear as the purple curse shot out of Weasley's wand directly at her. Caught unaware and off-guard, she managed to procure a powerful Protego but it was too late. The shield shattered as the powerful entrails-expelling curse tore through it.

"CONTEGO MAXIMA!"

Harry Potter's voice roared out of nowhere as a light blue shield manifested between her and the incoming curse. However, the lack of time made the shield less sturdy than it could have been. The shield deflected away the curse, the maximum part of it anyway. The remnants of the curse still hit her, severing her on the abdomen as she fell down on the ground, groaning in agony. Ron sneered angrily as he thrust his wand towards her and yelled.

"AVADA KEDAVRA!"

"NOOO...!"

* * *

Harry had just popped back into Hogwarts to find that the semifinals had already begun. He sincerely hoped that his angry girlfriend would not eat him up because of this travesty. He jogged his way up the stairs and was just about to take a seat beside Tracy when he noticed something different.

Ron was hurling powerful banishers and bludgeoning curses. While it was odd to see- _Ron Weasley_ firing such powerful curses, knowing that he could hardly fire a proper stupefy properly-there was something far odder.

 _Ron Weasley was firing spells with his left hand._

Something was wrong. Terribly wrong. His mind went back to the unknown person who had put his name in the goblet.

 _Daphne..._

He popped off and instantly reappeared next to Daphne, his wand already spinning in his palm, as he yelled.

"CONTEGO MAXIMA!"

The bluish shield that sprang up was possibly one of the very few shields that could be cast on another person apart from oneself. Unlike the Protego, the contego could be used to shield someone else instead of one's own. He saw the bluish shield materialize in front of Daphne who seemed to be shell-shocked at the sudden change of attack.

Unfortunately, before the shield could materialize perfectly, the entrails-expelling curse hit it hard, shattering it into pieces. The majority of the curse was deflected and dissipated away, but some of the remnants remained which shot towards her. The remnants, now nothing more than a severing curse, hit Daphne directly in the abdomen, causing her to shriek out in pain as she fell hard on the ice. Harry looked up at Weasley in shock.

It was completely surreal. The Weasley boy had let himself be injured—he could see his body etched with the effects of Daphne's bludgeoner- he had allowed himself to get hurt just to be able to get a killing shot at Daphne.

Fury unleashed from Harry's mind, as his magic rose in anger towards the attack done to his love. He whipped his hand and fired a spear curse but not before Weasley had sent off the last spell one could think of.

"AVADA KEDAVRA!"

"NOOOO.!"

It was too late, even for transfiguration, which would take more time than was available. Had the ground been rocky, he could have blasted it into an appropriate defense. Ice however, was many things, but a defense against the killing curse—it was not.

 _Ice!_

He whipped his wand powerfully and yelled out at the block of ice between Daphne and the killing curse.

"QUASSUM TERRAE!"

Then it happened. Huge blocks from the ice surged outward, forming a thick barrier between Daphne and the killing curse—not that the curse would be affected by it—ice simply did not serve as a blocker to the Avada Kedavra. No, what Harry had in mind was something different.

The miniature earthquake caused by the earth-shattering spell on ice broke the ice block into fragments, the seismic waves pushing the fragment that Daphne was on a few metres apart. It was not that great, but just enough that the killing curse missed its target.

* * *

Daphne watched in shock as the sickly green color of the killing curse sped towards her—her body completely stiff in shock as she watched it come. One would think she had even embraced and accepted her death-she widened her eyes as the curse reached her. Then it happened.

A shadow fell on her, much to her shock as she closed her eyes, accepting the inevitability of death to come to her. The feeling of lifelessness.

The feeling never came.

Daphne opened her eyes as she felt the sudden vibrations all around her, and to her surprise, she saw huge chunks of ice holding above her like a barrier, while the ice block she was on, had fragmented and drifted apart. She witnessed the killing curse hit very near her feet, missing her by a few inches.

Her sight shifted to her left, at the towering figure of one angry Harry Potter.

Ron Weasley stood in front of Harry Potter-a single steel spear plunged into his abdomen as he stood, wand hand outstretched, his eyes filled with carnal hunger and vengeance. The wand in his hand still smoking and giving out an eerie green vapor out of it.

His vision faltered, as his eyes lowered, and found the steel spear plunged into his body, as the pain came. He fell on the ground, blood spewing out of his mouth.

"Burn in hell, Potter." He whispered. He took a small ring from within his robes, and whispered.

"Vengeance."

With nothing but a ripple in the air, the ring glowed blue, as the portkey activated, whisking him away—a heavy rumbling of thunder following his departure as the portkey broke through the wards.

Pandemonium began.

* * *

The next few moments were a complete mess—people yelling brazenly, shocked at the turn of events- Dumbledore and the professors at the center of the stage—Madam Pomfrey immediately taking charge of Daphne who still lay on the ground, her abdomen having a large gnash on it as blood drenched her robes-Harry using a spherical shield to levitate her and pop into the Hospital wing-it was a mess.

"Albus, what happened with the Weasley boy?" Madam Bones was interrogating the Headmaster who looked worried. The new wards should have told him that there was an imposter in the school—clearly, someone had impersonated the youngest Weasley boy but surprisingly, the wards had told him nothing. His mind went over the chance of exposure to Imperius, but it did not stand. The imposter was firing powerful spells, spells much more powerful than what the fourth-year Gryffindor was capable of. In hindsight, he mused that it was his oversight. He should have known that something was wrong when the Weasley boy had squirreled his way into the semifinals. It was just unlike him.

"I do not know, Amelia. I swear I will find it out, what happened to him." Dumbledore commented. Amelia had her retort ready but a surprising noise distracted her. It was coming from the corridor outside.

 _This is going to be a long day._

* * *

As Madam Pomfrey and Harry Potter had taken care of Daphne's situation, the professors had intercepted the uncontrolled crowd and dispersed everyone away-pausing the events of the tournament for the moment. Dispatching the students to their respective common rooms, the professors had joined the Headmaster in the hospital wing.

Fred and George Weasley had succumbed to the shock of the entire situation—it was completely brazen and unexpected. Of course, it was a common fact that Ron hated Slytherins with a passion, one that was doubled when Harry had chosen Greengrass as his girlfriend. They knew that Ron had been quite subdued over late, and with the Triwizard and everything-things definitely were not in the best form. The fact that with Harry breaking out of the little golden trio—Hermione had fallen off too, and had become extremely reclusive, leaving Ron alone with his jealousy issues.

That much was all right-what was not, however were Ron's actions. How little ronniekins became big bad enough to actually defeat multiple opponents was one thing—but to actually resort to using dark curses and a bloody Unforgivable, it simply did not add up. It was more like-

A blood-curdling scream shook them out of their reveries.

"GINNY!" they yelled, dashing towards Ron's dorm. They broke into the dorm, to find their little sister weeping on the floor, holding Ron's mutilated body in her arms. His eyes were glassy and open-a blank look of shock plastered on his face while his lips held a cruel sneer on them. His body had been gnashed in many places—the wounds still bleeding at places.

"RON!" The worried voices of the twins reverberated at the same time.

* * *

"Where did you find him?"

"Inside his dorm", Ginny answered in sobs, while the twins held her shoulders firmly for support. Dumbledore was busy whispering incantations under his breath as his wand glowed with a multitude of colors. Finally, after an exorbitant amount of time, he looked up.

"This is Ron Weasley." The twins and Ginny looked oddly at him, uncertain what he meant from it. Madam Bones however, who shared his suspicions about an imposter impersonating him-shook her head in resignation.

"The person who was fighting the duels-he was some imposter. Ron Weasley-" he commented, pointing at the mutilated boy in front of him, "has been like this for at least five hours". He glanced at Madam Pomfrey who nodded in verification.

"Someone was impersonating him? But how?"

"I don't know." Albus muttered, feeling that he had failed in his duties once again. "Whoever it was, had come to kill, or at least seriously maim Miss Greengrass."

"But-" Ginny babbled out, "Why Ron?"

Albus shook his head. "I promise to find out."

"Will he live?" Fred asked- his mind still not wrapped around the sordid events of the day. Dumbledore sighed. "He will, but unfortunately, the mutilations were not all that young Ronald was exposed to."

"What do you mean?"

Albus Dumbledore sighed. "Ron here has been a victim of possession, and let me rephrase that-he has been a victim of possession _willingly_."

Madam Bones palmed her mouth, as she understood what Dumbledore meant. "But Albus, surely there is a mist-"

"There is no mistake, Amelia. Why young Ronald had agreed to be a willing host to a possession, I do not know. The sad thing is- we will never be able to find out."

"Why? Is he de-?"

"He is alive, Amelia, but only just. My inferences have told me three things. First, young Ron has allowed someone to possess him, and has played the role of a willing host for at least a month. Two, someone has been impersonating Ron in the tournament. Three, this very morning, the possessing spirit made Ronald perform these...mutilations on himself, before cursing himself with the _Tabula rasa_ curse, around five hours ago."

"The _personality death_ curse? But that..." her words remained behind in her throat. The tabula rasa—which means 'clean slate' was a curse that completely deleted the personality of a person—his thoughts, his memories, his existing feelings and emotions—everything. It was almost like resetting the person once again-he was as good as a new born baby, with no knowledge about anything at all—speech, senses, family-anything at all.

Albus Dumbledore shook his head. Turning to the twins, he spoke. "I am going to inform your parents. If you wish, you may take a leave and stay at home for the next few days." The twins did not answer.

"I do not suppose you think that I deserve an answer as to why that bastard is here, and not in Azkaban." A strong angry voice resounded from the doorway. Dumbledore turned to face a very angry Harry Potter, with his wand sparking vehemently, standing at the door.

* * *

Madam Pomfrey had just neutralized the effects of the severing curse, and was now applying bandages to Daphne's abdomen- the lingering scar due to the hex would stay but would slowly fade away in a couple of weeks—she had pronounced, much to Harry's elation. His mind went back to his previous life—where Hermione Granger had been hit by the very same curse by Dolohov-the scar had taken two years to vanish completely—at least the contego shield had dispersed the majority of the curse.

"Will she be okay, madam Pomfrey?" Harry urged, holding Daphne's palm firmly in his own. Poppy smiled, and nodded. "She will be fine in a couple of hours, though she would do better to not perform any hectic work tomorrow." Harry felt elated. At least Daphne was safe. Now he could concentrate on that bastard who had attempted to kill her.

"RONNNN!" He heard the twins shout out the hated name, and could not help but dash out of the door. There in front of him, he found Dumbledore waving his wand over the bastard-his mutilated body having no effect on his anger. He saw Dumbledore explain something to the Weasleys, who were shedding tears. A part of him knew that some imposter had tried to kill Daphne, but for the moment, his anger took over.

"I do not suppose you think that I deserve an answer as to why that bastard is here, and not in Azkaban." He snarled, his wand sparking out vehemently, as if in tune to his boiling anger.

Dumbledore looked back at his sudden entrance, his eyes lacking the usual twinkling effect-instead they were all grim and cold, and Harry knew that the old man was very worried. "Harry, it was not young Ronald who attacked Miss Greengrass, it was an imposter. Ronald has been in this condition since the last five hours."

Whatever Harry had prepared to say, his words dropped dead inside his throat at the revelation. "What happened to him?"

"Let's just say that the Ron Weasley that you knew will never be seen again." Madam Bones commented from one side. Harry turned to her with an inquisitive look. "What do you mean?"

"He has been hit by the tabula rasa curse." Dumbledore answered simply.

"Personality Death?" Harry muttered, his eyes widening with surprise.

"So, you know about the curse." Madam Bones looked at him skeptically. "I must say, it is not something that we expect from a fourteen-year-old."

Harry looked at her coldly. "You do not expect a fourteen-year-old to save your sorry arse from Fiendfyre too, and as unfortunate as it was—I did that too. Please keep your insinuations to yourself, madam Bones."

Amelia looked shocked. "I did not mean to insinuate anything, Mister Potter." She paused, "I was just making a point. The tabula rasa is one of the darkest of curses—for a boy as young as you, however we are digressing- Mister Weasley cursed himself with the curse today morning, and has been there in his dorm until his family found him."

"Why did he do that?" Harry asked.

"I am sorry but I cannot answer it to you. You are not Miss Greengrass' family, and thus, the matters do not relate to you, Boy-who-lived or not." Amelia scoffed.

"But they do to me!" The three people looked back to find Cyrus Greengrass entering the Hospital wing. Cyrus walked into the room, nodding at everyone. "Madam Bones, Headmaster," he turned towards Harry, "Mister Potter". Harry nodded in return. "Now will someone explain to me why an assassination attempt was made on my daughter?"

"Cyrus, let us take this to my office." Dumbledore tried. Cyrus nodded. "Mister Potter, I wish you to be a part of the conversation. Please accompany the Headmaster to his office. I shall join shortly after I visit my daughter." Harry did not refute back as he nodded, joining the Headmaster to his office.

* * *

 **One hour later...**

"So let me get this straight." Cyrus snarled. "Someone enters into Hogwarts, possesses another student-", he paused, "no wait, let me rephrase that- possesses some _moron who actually serves him willfully_ , inside Hogwarts under your own bloody nose? What kind of a headmaster are you?"

"Cyrus, I assure you, I had no idea-"

"Are you even listening to yourself? You are the Headmaster-if not you, then -who else is supposed to have an idea? Me? The elves? Or Mister Potter?" He paused. "As it seems, Mister Potter was the one who actually saved my daughter' life—two times if what I understand is correct."-He nodded towards Harry in respect-"I fail to understand what kind of fool school you are running here."

"ENOUGH!" Albus Dumbledore returned, his eyes now cold-"I understand that you are angry, and you have the right to be, but do not insinuate that I take my duties any less seriously. I had protections secured all throughout the castle and-"

"Fat load of good those protections did-" Cyrus scoffed.

Dumbledore took a breath.

"What happens to Weasley?" Harry intervened.

"Mister Weasley will be sent to Saint Mungo's, though there is very less chance of recovery to say the truth, I am afraid we have lost him."

"Did you find out who the imposter was? From your wards?" Harry asked pointedly.

Dumbledore looked at him straight in the eye. "My wards did not reveal any other name other than Ron Weasley fighting in the duels, Mister Potter."

"But-", Harry blurted out, his words still inside his throat.

"My thoughts exactly."

It was not possible that Ron was lying in the Gryffindor dorms and fighting in the duels at the same time... unless...

"Professor, could it be possible that he had access to a time-turner?"

Dumbledore shook his head. "I have played with that theory, but it does not hold. Ron Weasley does not have the injury due to your steel spear being embedded into the imposter's abdomen."

Harry thought hard. "So Ron Weasley was injured here inside the Gryffindor dorm, while another Ron Weasley was dueling in the grounds and attacking my girlfriend? Moreover, _both_ of them were _Ron Weasley_. Is that what you are saying?"

Dumbledore shook his head. "That is _exactly_ what I am saying."

"But... How?"

"I do not know."

* * *

A few miles away from the wards of Hogwarts, a crack resounded, disturbing the innate silence of the Forbidden forest, and with that came a scream-Ron Weasley pulled out the long steel spear out of his abdomen, as the blood gushed out, making him almost fall down in pain. He supported himself up using his palms, as he began to utter diagnostic charms on the wound, as his body shifted back into his older self.

 **FLASHBACK**

 **Two months earlier...**

Fourteen-year-old Ron Weasley was grumbling as he walked desolately in the narrow streets of Hogsmeade. His mind was filled with jealousy and rage about how Harry had betrayed him completely. He did not even notice that he had strayed into a narrow lane uninhibited by anyone.

"Hey Ronald!"

The sudden familiar voice shook him out of his reveries. He turned back immediately as the face of the person before him shocked his wits out. Staring back at him stood a splitting image of a smirking Ron Weasley.

 **Few hours later...**

"You... you are me?"

"Yes."

"From the future?"

"Yes."

"Bollocks!" Ron declared. This must be some kind of prank from the twins.

The other Ron smirked as he closed his eyes. Immediately, his body began to change as his muscles and other structures grew, and a couple of seconds later, a thirty-year-old Ron Weasley stood in front of him. He held out his wand- a very familiar wand.

"I swear on my magic that I am Ron Weasley from the future." The magic took effect as the bluish sheen faded from his body.

"But..." Ron tried, but failed to express the incredulity in his mind.

"Why am I here?"

Ron nodded.

"I am here to take revenge on someone. Someone who has betrayed us. Will betray us. Someone whom only you and I can stop, because no one else can stand against him."

Ron gaped. Surely, it could not be...

"Harry Potter."

Ron swallowed. "Now wait, you are insane. Harry... he is, he is addled in his brains right now. That is why he is hanging out with that bitch Greengrass. Let the tournament end, you will see he will apologize to me and be my best mate again. We are best mates."

Ronald sighed. This was going to be difficult. "Look Ron, I know you think that Harry is your best mate, but the future from which I come—he is not. Nobody calls him Harry Potter. He has a new name then."

"What?"

"The dark lord Potter."

"WHAT?"

 **A few days later...**

"Do you understand how this is going to work?"

Ron nodded.

"Dumbledore has built some new wards against impersonation. It is necessary that you allow me to possess you."

"Will it hurt?"

Ronald smiled. "Not in the slightest. Just that we will be able to talk in your mind. You will have my own knowledge of spells and my knowledge of the future."

Ron contemplated the offer.

"Very well."

Ronald smiled.

* * *

Ronald had possessed the young Ron and figured out everything about the new wards, about the new changes in the timeline, and importantly, about the changes in Harry Potter. For one, Harry Potter was not the Gryffindor he was, his nature had changed. He had taken up his heritage—Ronald wondered if it was because of his alterations with the timeline... Harry Potter was surprisingly much more powerful too, but that could have been because the bindings in Harry's core that broken off. Then something happened that changed his perceptions.

The battle with the dragons. It was surprisingly easy. He had simply badgered Charlie to talk about the protections over the stockade that held the dragons. A little Veritaserum coupled with the confounding charm had worked wonders. With a little help of an imperiused Charlie Weasley, Ronald had been able to place a powerful explosive rune-set etched into the stockade-one that required a blasting curse to activate. Since Charlie Weasley was the one responsible for the protection of the stockade, there had been no further distractions or interference.

The remaining had been easy- Casting the Imperio over the Ravenclaw had been child's play-an irony since he was a child himself now-a well-aimed blasting curse, and hell had descended onto Hogwarts. One that would burn Harry Potter with it.

Then the most amazing thing had happened. Harry potter had cast Fiendfyre-and that too successfully. It reminded him of one single individual, the one who had demonstrated that amazing affinity to Fiendfyre...It was simply astounding, and only one situation held the answer to this oddity.

This was not the original Harry Potter. Rather, Harry Potter had indeed travelled back in time to the past. The theory proposed by Gabrielle Delacour had worked-Harry Potter had indeed travelled to the past.

 _So, when Harry Potter cast the killing curse at himself, it indeed did transport his soul back to the future..._

Ronald did not know whether to feel excited or angry. Angry because things just got a tad more difficult. Excited because things just got a tad more exciting. The dark lord Potter was back-then the merciless killing of the Death eaters-it all made sense.

 _I need to get Bellatrix Lestrange out of prison as soon as possible. The cup needs to be secured._

He had been to Lucius Malfoy's manor, and had charmed dear old Lucy into doing his bidding. The secrets of the dark mark were very interesting... only if _Voldemort_ knew what Ronald was...

He smirked.

Young Ron had been a very persuasive host, allowing him to take control at the most opportune moments, giving Ronald time and access to Harry Potter when he was most vulnerable-with the young Miss Greengrass. To see Harry Potter in love with the Raven, it was almost amusing. Then, the Veela entered into the equation.

 _I hope Potter is ready for the eternal damnation that I am going to put him through..._

The duel event had been just as planned. He had fought using Ron's possessed body, and effectively risen into the semifinals. There was just one thing in his mind-kill the Greengrass girl. His first gift of retribution to Harry Potter... the feeling was divine.

However, _damn!_ The girl was good. Potter had indeed trained her. That, and there was another problem- the young Weasley was not as powerful and strong as he thought. Besides, being possessed for so long was shutting him down slowly, and as unfortunate as it was, Ron was not so cooperative as before.

 _He will get his desired piece... or peace..._

The semifinal was just about to start in a couple of hours, and it was time to set the final task into order-Ron knew too much, but he could not be killed. No, killing Ron would have unforeseen impact on the timeline.

The youngest Weasley boy would _have_ to live.

" _ **You know Ron? I suppose you have been a willing helper for so long, so it is time I gift you with something?"**_

" _ **What is that?"**_

" _ **This..." the wand hand moved on its own, as it poised over Ron's temples...**_

" _ **TABULA RASA!"**_

Ronald had returned to his own body—the very same that he had hid within Ron's trunk-Barty Crouch Junior had the right idea after all. A couple of swished and Ron's body was mutilated- his personality already dead. He left the younger boy straddled on the floor in the Gryffindor dorms, leaving for the semifinals.

 _If you want something done perfectly, do it yourself._

 **END OF FLASHBACK**

Ronald Weasley held himself up, whimpering in pain. "Harry Bloody Potter, I will not fail the next time. I will take away everything from you, just like you did to me."

* * *

 **### That was it. I suppose this chapter answers a lot of questions asked to me in the previous chapters. If not, well you need to wait a bit more for the remaining answers. Well, as always- follow, favorite and importantly, review.**


	29. Chapter 29 : betrayal

**The future past. March 1997.**

 **Potter Manor.**

Nothing was indeed more peaceful than having your own loved ones with you. That goes double when it is just you and your beloved partner. For Harry Potter, life could not be any better. It did not matter that Voldemort was on the loose. It did not matter that he was hunting down the very horcruxes that kept the most dangerous wizard on the planet alive. It did not matter that unless it was for the heavy fortifications of Potter Manor, they would have to be at constant vigilance against ambushes and sudden attacks—it just did not matter at all.

The pair just walked hand in hand-her soft fingers on his, her head dropped slightly on his shoulders, their bodies in contact together—strolling on the lush green grounds of Potter manor. It was one of those few moments, which he had-the ones that could always serve as a Patronus memory of he needed it.

"We have time, don't we? After all of this is over?" she asked.

Harry shifted a bit to look at her face-so beautiful, so enchanting-her icy blue eyes, her golden curls, her full pink lips with that naughty smirk on them—the same lips that now quivered as the uncertainty of the future crushed down on her mind.

"Lots of time... lots and lots of time..." he promised with a smile.

"Papa is still not happy that I have chosen you. I do not know why, but he is very adamant about it."

He frowned. Sebastian Delacour was a... difficult person to understand. While the rest of the world would jump at the opportunity to be family to the Boy-who-lived, Sebastian Delacour seemed happy to just maintain a _healthy animosity_ against him-it was as if he hated Harry on principle.

"Your dad is-" he tried, but words failed to express his confusion for her father.

"I understand. I am sure someday-"

BOOOOM!

Disorientation. Complete disorientation. His temples were throbbing as he put his fingers on his head- the fresh blood oozing out colored his fingers red. His muscles cried out in pain, as his nerves flared out in agony. He opened his eyes, but all he could see was a blur.

Then the truth came to him.

 _FLEUR!_

His eyes wide open, despite the blur, he began searching for the woman he loved, his beloved, his Fleur...

"Fleur... Fleur..."

The smoke cleared, and as the dust settled down, he searched everywhere using his hands, until it hit something soft. The blur receded as he saw the very sight that would haunt him forever...

Fleur was fallen on the ground. Her form was bloodied, her blue robes now dirtied with dust and red with her own blood oozing out of her wounds. Her blue eyes-glassy, devoid of their characteristic vibrancy—devoid of life...

FLEUR!

FLEUR!

FLEUR!

However, Fleur Delacour would just not respond. Harry looked aside, all around. The main wardstone on the Potter grounds was heavily damaged, but still somewhat intact, keeping the fortifications strong. He saw the intruders on the other side of the property, while Hermione came running from behind.

"Harry! Harry! Are you all right? Harry?" she asked frantically, wiping the blood off his temples as he stood up. "Fleur isn't responding. I don't know-she isn't just-" he babbled, "do something Hermione, please." He begged her. Hermione nodded hastily as she turned and levitated the fallen body of Fleur Delacour and applied a statis charm on her, levitating her into the Manor.

Harry watched her leave, as his attention turned back towards the intruders. They had detonated some kind of magical landmine inside the property, which meant just one thing-they had been compromised and betrayed by someone inside. However, that meant—-

Harry summoned his wand back and apparated.

* * *

Augustus Rookwood believed that when it came to wards, he had no betters. Even the fellows at the DOM accepted it-his knowledge of ward breaking was superlative. The wards of Potter manor, however antiquated, were after all—wards. However, they seemed to be quite immune to any kind of external attacks, and hence the KA-BOOM! Style of ward breaking by overpowering it using blasting curses would not work.

That left only one option.

Break it from within.

Normally this would be impossible, but lucky for him—he had a mole on the inside. Someone who was very close to Potter himself, someone who had recently joined ranks with the Death eaters in secrecy-only the inner circle of the dark lord were aware of the developments. A mole-a betrayer—how wonderful!

Ron Weasley.

The blood traitor had finally come to his senses and deserted Potter to join ranks under the dark lord. At least he was a Pureblood, which was something. Had the blood traitor been a muggleborn, the dark lord would have killed him anyway.

Ron Weasley had helped him plant a magical landmine right next to the main wardstone. Ron Weasley had helped him break through the initial layer of wards, though it had not worked out as he had expected. No sooner had they entered, the outer layer reactivated, sandwiching them. There was only one way left-that was going forward-he hoped that the explosion would destroy the wardstone, or at least weaken it enough to allow them to break into the manor.

Unfortunately, the strangest of things had happened. The detonation had worked wonderfully, and the best thing-Potter and his Veela wench were right there when it exploded-the Veela seemed dead while Potter was wounded. Then again, the bad news was that the wardstone was still intact.

That left only one option. Fight his way out.

 _Damn!_

"Moitas Espadas!" Potter's voice resounded from a side, as dozens of silver arrows rained towards the death eaters, taking away five from Rookwood's team of eight. Rookwood instantly went on the defensive, raising powerful shields and then moving forward with dark curses. As unfortunate as it was, Potter was quite an accomplished dueler, what with the way he moved gracefully and bombarded powerful and potentially dark curses down on them. It was completely odd—seeing a fighter for the Light—Dumbledore's stooge—using dark curses to fight them.

"Oooh, Potter likes to play with the dark arts is it?" he taunted. "Old man Dumbledore would be sooooo disappointed." Harry gnashed his teeth as he rained down darker and powerful curses on the death eaters, his mind completely dissolved in fury and vengeance.

* * *

 **One hour later...**

"Who allowed you inside the wards? ANSWER ME!"

The wand swished as a jolt of lightning electrified one of the death eaters, making him twist and cry out in agony. Rookwood was already dead, killed in the battle with Harry, and now only two were left, tied in the dungeons of Potter manor as he tortured them into revealing information.

"It was Weasley!" Travers yelled, unable to withstand the curse any longer.

"No!" Harry muttered, "YOU LIE! Fulminis!" another jet if lightning spewed out of his wand, as the death eater cried out in pain and agony. "I am telling the truth!" he pleaded. "Weasley gave us the information; he planted the landmine and also allowed us in. Please I beg you; I do not know anything else."

Harry's face turned emotionless. This was not happening. Ron- he could not-he just could not. He ran out of the dungeon instantly. He needed to find the truth now. He banged the door to Ron's room open. It just could not be Ron, it just-

"RONNNN!"

Harry's eyes widened. It was Hermione, and the sound-

Harry raced upstairs towards Hermione's room. It was where she had taken Fleur before turning it into a makeshift Hospital wing. He barged through the door as he found himself greeted with the oddest sight he could ever imagine.

Hermione was fallen on the ground-her left leg injured and bloodied-blood oozing out of her lips, her face swollen with a large red mark. She was trying to crawl away from the one person she had trusted to be her best friend and lover-Ron Weasley, who was maniacally grinning as he towered above her, his wand thrust out towards her.

"I am sorry Hermione, but this is for your own-"

"EXPELLIARMUS!"

The wand flew out of Ron's hand as he turned sharply towards the new entrant. Harry Potter was shaking as he stood on the doorway, his wand pointed towards him as Potter's face glowed with rage.

"It was you, you bastard! I could not believe it, but...You. How could you, Ron?"

Weasley just smirked. It was so unnatural to see him smirking, as he raised his hands up in surrender. The sleeves fell towards his shoulders, revealing the dark mark on his left arm. Harry's eyes widened as he glared with rage.

"Oops! You caught me!" Ron mocked, "I guess we need to finish this quickly then!" he whipped another spare wand from his robes and shot a blasting curse at Harry who jumped out of the way. Taking the opportunity, he thrust his wand towards Hermione and yelled, "Avada Kedavra!"

Perhaps it was because of the adrenaline rush, or perhaps because of the revelations, but something in Harry just snapped. He whipped his wand, not even uttering a sound, but his magic seemed to understand what he wanted as a marble slab materialized between Hermione and Ron, blocking the killing curse before turning to dust. He flicked his wand again as powerful metallic chains formed around Ron's person despite his best efforts, incapacitating him.

"Why did you do this to me?" Harry asked coldly.

"You will never understand." Ron scoffed.

Harry was done with it. "So be it." And for the second time in his life, he uttered.

"CRUCIO!"

Ron yelled out in pain as his insides seared with agony. It was pain, the likes of which, Ron had never felt. Ron Weasley twitched and tried his level best to break out of the chains while his nerves flared in painful agony.

"Bellatrix was right. You do need to mean it. CRUCIO MAXIMUS!"

"CURSE YOU POTTER!" Ron yelled, as he bit his lip, but found no solace. Blood sprayed out of his mouth as his skin blackened. His eyes turned over, as he started to convulse in pain.

Harry stopped the curse as Ron Weasley sagged down to the ground.

"You betrayed me..." A whip of his wand as lightning struck the redhead, who screamed.

"You let them in..."

"You are responsible for Fleur and Hermione's injuries... CRUCIO!"

Weasley screamed more and more.

"You betrayed us all..."

Silence.

Harry looked closely at Ron's face- the emerald green eyes looked into the brown ones...seeing nothing but hatred.

"Any last words, Weasley?"

Ron sneered. It was almost surprising that Weasley retained enough of a mind to sneer. His voice changed into something more... grating..."

"Curse you Potter!" he snarled as he spat on Harry's face.

" _Obcidione caedo!"_ Harry muttered as a pale blue curse hurled out of his wand and hit Ron in the chest. Weasley's entire body started to turn gray...

"What did you hit him with?" Hermione urged, still trying to get up.

"The withering curse. The very same that weakened Dumbledore." Harry answered coldly.

Ron's entire body turned grayish as flakes started to peel out of them. "Burn in Hell, Weasley!" Harry snarled. The anger in those brown eyes remained prevalent as his entire body withered away into the dust.

"What was that?" Hermione asked fearfully.

"The beginning of the End."

* * *

 **Back to the present...**

Harry woke up from a disturbed sleep as he sat beside Daphne's bed. He had fallen asleep sitting next to her sleeping figure on the Hospital bed. Standing up, he was just about to get out of the hospital wing when he found something holding him back. He turned, only to see Daphne's palm held around his palms tightly. He smiled, and carefully opened her fingers apart to extract his hand out of hers.

The debacle with Weasley and the imposter was troubling him a lot. It was a strange set of situations. Why would anyone, even Ron Weasley of all people willingly agree to a possession? Jealous bastard he might be, but he had seen what had happened to Quirrel-surely, Weasley wasn't that much of an idiot to forget that, but then-what else could have happened?

Harry focused on all the events that had happened in his life so far. Possession was possible by only the darkest of wizards, especially those who dabble with something as dangerous as soul magic. Voldemort could do it-but Ron Weasley would never allow Voldemort to possess him-besides Voldemort must be preparing for the resurrection at this moment. It would be insane, even for Voldemort to try such a thing.

There was simply _no one_ else that could be a viable suspect in _this_ world. Ever since, he had time-travelled-

Wait!

Time travel...

What if-

Ten seconds later, the wards of Croaker's office triggered powerfully. Someone had broken into the Department of Mysteries without prior permission.

* * *

Croaker felt his wards go frenzy all of a sudden, piquing his interest. Unlike other departments, if someone had indeed broken into the DOM, the first thing Unspeakables would do would be having an interesting discussion with the intruder—for it won't be just any normal wizard who would have achieved the feat. It would require someone highly powerful, talented and versatile, and at this moment-there was only one name on the list.

"Good morning Mister Potter. What brings you here?" he urged, as the smoky ethereal figure materialized in front of him, forming the corporeal form of Harry Potter.

"Director, I have some questions. I hope you will be able to help me with them."

"Interesting. Go on."

"How _exactly_ did you figure out that I travelled back in time?"

Croaker folded his hands in a Dumbledore-esque fashion and rested his chin over his fingertips. "We have a...equipment that allows us to sense if chronomantic disturbances occur anywhere in Magical Britain."

Harry narrowed his eyes. "I am in need of discrete information."

"As in?"

"How many of such... disturbances have you noticed say... in the last one year?"

"I am not sure why you are-" Croaker began.

"You will soon be sure of why I am asking this." Harry interrupted. "Please", he insisted, "tell me."

Croaker sighed. "Very well. There was a disturbance in the forbidden forest in May 1994 and one more in Little Hangleton, three days later."

Harry's eyes widened-something that did not go amiss by Croaker.

"Who was it?" Harry asked brazenly. "Tell me you know _who_ it was."

Croaker silently shook his head. "We couldn't figure it out. From your reaction, I presume _you_ had nothing to do with this."

Harry shook his head. Croaker rubbed his temples. "Then we have a problem."

* * *

Back at Hogwarts, the entire school was in pandemonium. The sudden attack on Greengrass by none other than Ron Weasley had shook the foundation of security amongst the students. How were they safe among the walls-when a random student could just come up and try to kill you? Especially if said student were a brawn Gryffindor of all people- if the house of chivalry and nobility contained such monsters, what hope was there for the rest of the school population?

The Weasley twins and Ginny had been sent back home—not that they complained. Knowing the rather mercurial nature of the student population, and the furtive glances that the students casted upon them- the Weasleys knew better than to stay in school at the present moment. The tournament had been delayed until further notice, much to the scowling of one French girl, who sported a scowl all the day, complaining about how the Greengrass girl was simply making a mountain out of a molehill in her own vivacious manner. Said Greengrass girl was still in the Hospital wing, as she had yet to be released by the school matron, and had been limited to conversations with some of her friends who managed to squirm some time out to see her.

Harry had been seen in the Headmaster's presence twice that day, though after that, he was away for the day. There were rumors about Ron Weasley being treated in the Hospital wing, but no one had been able to confirm the suspicions. Dumbledore had used his position as Chief Warlock to instill two Auror guards at the Hospital wing to prevent any unwanted interference. Overall, it seemed that until Greengrass was declared as fit and fine, the duels would remain stalled.

* * *

"So _someone_ time-travelled from the future after me, to take some sort of vengeance over me. This person has been slightly altering the timeline-and in all possibility- could be working with Voldemort to do me in. Also, he somehow, convinced the Weasley moron to allow him to possess his body." Croaker almost rolled his eyes at the statement. "This person somehow wants to kill Daphne because she is close to me." Harry sighed. "Wonderful!" he clapped his hands in mock appreciation.

Croaker looked solemnly at him. "What do you think could be the possible reasons for this vendetta?"

Harry shrugged. "Could be a lot of things. It could be someone from Voldy's old crowd, though I never saw any of them in the last few years. It could have been someone from Inferno Corporation, or some dimwit from the ICW, I have no idea... the possibilities are endless."

"The ICW?"

"Yes, the Inferno Corp. had infiltrated into its ranks. The ICW or Inferno, it's all the same to me." Harry shrugged offhandedly. "I cannot say who it was that could have come after me, since I remember the entire contingent destroyed before I travelled back in time."

"There is always a chance that someone lived and saw you travelling back in time."

Harry did not reply. He paced across the room. "I do not know. For some reasons, he was able to fool the castle's wards."

"Not a mere ordinary feat."

"Of course not", Harry snapped, "Not even I could do the same."

"What about Ron Weasley from the future?"

Harry turned sharply at him. "What do you mean?"

Croaker shrugged. "It is an obvious speculation. If Ron Weasley from the future would come back to the past, the castle's wards would show him as Ron Weasley. Sort of fits."

"I wish." Harry exclaimed, "But it's not true."

"Why?"

"Because I killed Ron Weasley myself in the future."

Croaker drew his breath. "With the body count you have on your name, I wouldn't be surprised if they called you a dark lord in the future."

Harry looked at him, amused.

Croaker paled. "You are not serious, are you?"

Harry bit back an instant comment about the 'serious' word, and simply stared back at him amusedly.

"You _were_ a dark lord?" Croaker muttered in awe.

"You have to say, Dark Lord Potter does have a nice ring to it." Harry replied genially. Croaker sighed. "I am dealing with the devil."

"No, you aren't. You have _no idea_ what the devil is like." Harry sounded unusually serious. "I did what I had to, to save Magical Britain from Inferno Corp. As it is, they already named me a dark-lord-wannabe in my second year at Hogwarts because I could speak Parseltongue."

"I... understand." Croaker replied, "But that opens up a new vault of questions."

"Fire them at me."

"Are you sure that the person you killed, was _actually_ Ron Weasley?"

Harry wanted to reply, but bit back—his eyes burning with vindictive curiosity.

* * *

Albus Dumbledore sagged himself on his chair- it had been a long day. An attempt to murder on the stage of the dueling event was... mind boggling. Especially when the perpetrator was a fourth-year Gryffindor—Ron Weasley. The revelations that followed, they just made the situation less and less palpable and more complicated. He wondered if the ever-growing mystery would find a solution any time soon.

Someone knocked on the office door.

"Come in, Minerva."

The Scottish woman walked in, her lips thinned in tension. "Albus, the organizers are asking about the renewal of the dueling event. The sponsors are getting out of control." Albus sighed. "Miss Greengrass is quite well at the moment, if not in her best form. We shall renew the events from tomorrow morning."

"Are you sure?"

Dumbledore nodded.

"Very well. I shall inform the organizers."

* * *

 **The next day...**

The stadium was back in all glory, with the spectators looking forward to the continuation of the dueling tournament. It seemed that the unfortunate incident and murder attempt on the stage had done no setback to the interest and excitement of the crowds-if anything; the crowds seemed more relentless than ever. The second event of the semi-final was ready-Fleur Delacour of Beauxbatons facing Victor Krum of Durmstrang.

The stadium was set- this time the ground was a sandy terrain—a miniature desert, so to say. Fleur Delacour and Victor Krum stood on either side, wands at the ready, with curses on their lips. On one side- Fleur Delacour and her prowess with fire and enchantments, while on the other hand—Victor was a prodigy with battle transfiguration as his chief arsenal.

"Three, two, one... DUEL!"

"Reducto!"

"Confringo!"

The two blasting spells hit each other midway, as the duel officially started. The two opponents circled each other like wolves—Victor still stoic as usual, while Fleur with her hands extended, her Veela powers ready to overpower her opponent.

"Confringo maxima!" Victor roared, causing Fleur to dodge the incoming spell. Taking the opportunity, Victor shoved down many more blasting curses towards her, making it impossible for her to go for the offensive. With a beautiful combination of shielding and dodging, she danced around her opponent, often using her Veela powers to cast fireballs as a way of minor offensive attacks. It was a good way, making the opponent waste out his energies before Fleur could go for the final kill.

Victor seemed to realize what was going on, and whirled around, casting a powerful wide-are banisher in a circle—the waves making Fleur shift away from him, giving him a wider berth to move about. While more of a stationary fighter, Victor did not undermine the importance of space when it came to dueling. He transfigured a swarm of bats and sent them towards Fleur, who used her flames to burn them down. Using the opportunity, he threw a multitude of powerful bludgeoners at her. Fleur escaped the wrath of the incoming horde, though one single spell did land a nasty imprint upon her abdomen, making her whimper in pain.

Victor smirked.

Fleur paused for a while and then changed tactics. She whipped her wand and transfigured two bulls from the sand and attacked Victor with them, while at the same time consistently threw fireballs towards his person. Unfortunately, Victor seemed to be quite calm and composed, and did not lose his demeanor unlike Rostov- and was beating her attacks back by a significant margin. Fleur raced towards him, firing spells at full power, despite the fact that Victor parried them well enough. Just a couple of yards away, she threw her most powerful exploding curse, making Victor use his full power to erect a shield against it, and then sent a jolt of her allure. It was not of much difference, but the momentary confounding power of the allure made victor lose his grasp for two seconds. That was exactly what Fleur wanted. Just as she found his eyes turning cloudy, she sent off a powerful banisher, sending Victor out of the duel ring.

"And THAT, ladies and gentle-wizards, concludes the semi-finals. The grand finale will be held exactly an hour from now—between Daphne Greengrass of Hogwarts and Fleur Delacour of Beauxbatons. Till then, I shall tune out." Lee cheered from his commentary box.

Fleur shook her arms in satisfaction, the tiredness of the duel getting to her. She walked down the battleground and slowly treaded towards Daphne, who was sitting on a chair. As she walked past, she passed a single note to her.

"Your time and luck has run out. Get ready to be defeated."

* * *

 **### Ah well, sorry for the delay. I was having a very tedious week. Anyway, hope you like this short and succinct chapter. The next brings the grand finale between Daphne and Fleur. As always, follow, favorite and review...**

 **### I am almost done with my editing and slight rewrite of 'The Last of the Peverells'. Expect the new and rewritten edition to replace the original by the next seven days. I will be posting it officially, of course. On that record, I find that the number of readers in SERPENT LORD and BROKEN VENGEANCE to be very low, compared to my other stories. Is it because the stories begin from the first year?**


	30. Chapter 30 : Finale

_"And THAT, ladies and gentle-wizards, concludes the semi-finals. The grand finale will be held exactly an hour from now—between Daphne Greengrass of Hogwarts and Fleur Delacour of Beauxbatons. Till then, I shall tune out." Lee cheered from his commentary box._

 _Fleur shook her arms in satisfaction, the tiredness of the duel getting to her. She walked down the battleground and slowly treaded towards Daphne, who was sitting on a chair. As she walked past, she passed a single note to her._

 _"Your time and luck has run out. Get ready to be defeated."_

* * *

The hour was over. The finalists were ready. The stage was set. The spectators were cheering. The grand finale between the two duelists was about to begin.

"And finally, the grand finale- the duel of duels—between our two finalists", Lee roared into the megaphone as the audience cheered madly, "on one end-our own Miss Daphne Greengrass representing Hogwarts", the students cheered, especially the Slytherins- "and on the other, Miss Fleur Delacour from Beauxbatons." The Beauxbatons contingent and their headmistress clapped wildly in response. "And now, the two finalists are going to have their final duel of the tournament-the winner will be awarded an amount of eight hundred galleons", lee stopped for a cheer to erupt out suddenly, "and of course, the two finalists are going to get sponsorships from the International Organization of Duelists."

Flitwick stood in the middle, wearing the traditional white robes of a referee. "I hope you will abide by the rules and duel each other fairly. Champions, bow to each other." Fleur gave Daphne a mocking bow, while Daphne jerked her head faintly.

"You are just fourteen, and that too injured... I feel pity for you, little girl." Fleur mocked with fake sadness.

"My victory will feel sweeter when I defeat you even while injured." Daphne countered back with an overblown expression of fake sweetness, much to Fleur's ire.

"Once I show you your place, Harry will understand what he loses by avoiding me..." Fleur countered.

"An extremely haughty Veela perhaps?" Daphne quipped.

"THREE, TWO, ONE..." The audience sucked their breaths in. "DUEL!"

"BOMBARDA MAXIMA!"

Both witches yelled out the same spell, as the two opposing flashes of pale crimson shot out from either wand, colliding with the other midway in a resonating explosion. The audience cheered—the entertainment had begun.

* * *

Harry sat alongside Tracy and the rest, looking anxiously at Daphne dueling Fleur on the stage. While he was quite confident in her skills, her injury was a cause of concern. He had always forced her to follow the principle of 'movement over shielding', something that would not work in this case. For one, fleur was a very graceful duelist; it was dead obvious to anyone with experience. The way she moved her lithe body and weaved around the incoming spells—it was spectacular. Daphne had also been coming up quite well along the same lines, but the sudden injury in her abdomen was going to be a problem. His mind went back to the conversation they had—the previous night.

" **Daph, there is no way you can go out and duel in this condition." Harry deadpanned.**

 **Daphne looked up at him in shock, her eyes widened at what she was essentially thinking of him betraying her. "Not you too, everyone keeps telling me the same, but you... you taught me how to fight better all this year, and now, when it is time to prove myself-you—you want me to back down because of one little injury?"**

" **It is not a little injury as you are so fond of saying, Daphne." He snapped, ignoring her protests. "That curse could have killed you. Despite the shielding, the curse hit you and caused significant damage. Dueling tomorrow would tear the newly formed tissues."**

" **But what about Dela-"**

" **What about her?"**

" **I do not want to lose." She confessed. "All the school knows that you train me personally. I do not them to insinuate that it was all talk and no action. I want to prove myself by defeating-"**

" **You are in the finals. Is that not enough?" Harry pleaded. Daphne could see the tendrils of worry on his handsome face.**

" **Would it be for you, if you were in my place?"**

 **No reply.**

 **After a silent moment, Harry spoke again. "Your dueling is based on movement, so is hers. Due to your injury, your movement will be restricted. How do you think, you** _ **will**_ **win?"**

 **Daphne kept silent, as she considered his words. He had said** _ **'will win'**_ **and not** _ **'can win'**_ **. It meant that on some level, he still thought that she could overpower Delacour.**

" **I can-I will think of something." She answered, more to herself than to him.**

" **I do not want to see you in pain." He whispered, leaving the room.**

Harry looked at the two duelists, firing overpowered blasting curses at each other, giving a grand start to what seemed to be an interesting duel. He just hoped that Daphne would be fine.

"She will be fine, Harry." He glanced to his side to find Tracy looking at the dueling stage. Her easy-going expression had vanished, leaving an expressionless face. "I know, she will."

"How are you so sure?"

Tracy turned towards him. "Because she would die before losing. Losing to Delacour, it will defeat her at many levels—more than you can possibly understand."

"Try me."

Tracy sighed. "It is a girl thing, Potter. You have not seen her when she used to talk about you when you were all scary to her. She thought that at some point of time, you might truly kill her." Harry chuckled at that, much to her exasperation, but she continued. "Then, when you began teaching her-you did not see the expression she had—she would almost bounce in the room and wax poetic about your abilities. She told me how she went to every session, expecting warm words of encouragement and appreciation, but all she got was more insults, and open-mocking; and she would not have it any other way."

Harry's expression went solemn. "It was nece-" he began, but Tracy rose her palm. "I know. I am not all flirty-and-auburn-hair you know. I understand you did what you felt right, and I can tell you, that despite the hardships, Daphne loved it." She paused. "She was downright Hufflepuff about you."

Harry chuckled again.

"I do not know how much you see, but to her- your teaching means a lot. Already Delacour has you inside a betrothal, and then she has been constantly belittling Daphne ever since the tournament began. In addition, the fact that Ron Weasley of all people grievously injured her has not helped matters. She thinks that if she lost it today, it would mean your defeat, and my best friend is too Hufflepuff to allow that." Tracy chuckled.

"You have her responses correct to a tee." Harry observed.

"We have been friends since we were three. What else do you expect?"

Harry just smiled.

* * *

The rocky terrain was a solid arena for a duel finale. It was good both for defense—the rock boulders shielded against the strongest of curses and offense- the ways of using the rocks and pebbles offensively were limitless. Daphne was glad that the terrain was rocky- summoning rocks was a good alternative to dodging, and right now—she could not use the latter. She summoned the rocks in front of her to hinder off the Veela's oncoming barrage, and the large pebbles were a good offense against the Veela's fireballs too.

"Contego forte!" she whispered as a dome shield appeared before her, negating the powerful severing hex that the other girl had fired at her. Eight minutes were over, and Delacour had been the dominant one since the beginning of the duel.

 _Clearly, she is taking advantage of my injury._

She saw Delacour power up an extensive spell chain and hurl them rapidly at her. She summoned more rocks to deflect the incoming hexes but a powerful banisher sent her out of control, as she dropped to the ground.

* * *

Fleur was having the time of her life. This girl-Daphne Greengrass symbolized the things she hated with passion. Perfect pureblood heritage, proper representation in society, and importantly, the girl had her claws into the one person Fleur desired. Ever since the tournament had begun, she wanted to show this... _putain_... her rightful place. Finally, the opportunity had come to her, and what better than the finale event for belittling the girl? It was a shame that the girl was injured, but merlin forbid if she got something like _fairness_ in the middle of a duel. This was a duel and winning mattered—if the girl wanted sympathy, she should not have agreed to fight in the first place.

"Effligo! Incendio prima! Concido!" she shot out there powerful spells in succession, only to be angered as the girl shielded herself effectively using the rocks. Fleur whipped her wand and cast a wind attack, but the girl shielded from them effectively, throwing up rocks in offense at her.

 _Clearly, she is stalling. She has yet to do any attack. So far, she has only summoned rocks and deflected my attacks. Nothing else._

Then it came to her. Greengrass was not moving—it meant that the injury must have cost her more than what it seemed. She focused on the girl's stance again. Her knees were slightly bent, allowing her a little amount of movement without severe pressure on the abdomen. Fleur smirked.

 _Time for the kill._

She whipped her wand in an elaborate arc, making sure to include some confusing spells inside the spell chain she was forming. Greengrass was not attacking, so there was all the time in the world. She concatenated several bludgeoning spells together along with splicing hexes—it would be funny to see the girl struggle with the spells together—and added a powerful banisher towards the end as she shot it towards the unsuspecting girl.

Just as she had expected, Greengrass summoned rocks and tried to do away with the hexes, but the bludgeoners did a nasty job on her shields, forcing her to buckle. The banisher took full advantage of the opportunity and blasted her rocky shield outward, causing her to lose her balance and fall on the ground.

"Aaaah!" the girl cried, holding her abdomen in pain. Even from the distance, Fleur could see the faint drops of fresh blood oozing out from the injured area. Clearly, the newly formed tissues were not that firm yet.

 _First blood to me._

* * *

Harry watched with widened eyes as Daphne fell on the ground, and let out a shriek clutching her abdomen. He shot up from his seat instantly, about to apparate to the stage when he found someone holding him back. Tracy had stopped him by clutching his hand tightly.

"You will not interfere." She warned.

"But Tracy..."

"You will not interfere", Tracy, countered imperiously. "You did not support her initially. The only reason she is fighting now is due to her relentlessness. I won't let you stop her again mid-battle."

"But-"

"No."

Harry sagged down back into his seat. It was a fight for him just as much as it was for her.

"Trust her, Harry." Tracy replied- her voice softened to a degree.

He nodded. "Get up Daph!"

* * *

Almost as if in response to his prayers, Daphne got back up. The pain in her abdomen seared, but she used her Occlumency to shove the pain away. Getting up somehow, she cast a quick Episkey on the injured tissue, hoping against hope that the spell would repair it back up. Fortunately, the pain seemed to lessen a bit, though a random spurts of pain continued to shoot up her spine every now and then.

Daphne stood straight and held her ground. Delacour had managed to bring her down, no doubt taking advantage of her injury. She looked at said girl to find her smirking back at her.

"So you still have some fight left in you, is it?"

Daphne did not give any reaction to the taunt. Delacour continued. "Last chance- surrender and things won't have to go messy, or should I say bloody."

"You wish." Daphne hissed back, increasing the other girl's ire. "Just surrender!" Delacour shrieked, as she whipped her wand to hurl several powerful curses at her. Daphne raised another shield to absorb the attacks. Fleur ran towards her, firing powerful curses and hexes. There was no way she could hold her ground if Fleur attacked up close.

 _This cannot go on forever. I have to do something... but what?_

A random idea came to her. It was something she had never tried before, something from a half-remembered dream... An attack move, one that she could do without her movement hindering her. It was almost instinctive.

She whipped her wand outward to the heavens and forced her magic. The burning rocks and pebbles she was using as her defense shot up as a shower of fiery stones parallel to the tip of the wand, shooting upwards like a missile. With a fierce thrust of her wand, she bent the entire fleet towards Fleur who seemed surprised at the sudden attack, hastily rising a shield. The fiery pebbles barged over her shield, making Fleur step back due to the pressure. Daphne focused on the attack and sent a powerful banisher towards her opponent, pushing her back. Fleur sent a succession of fireballs, but a sudden blast from the pebbles broke through her attempts to attack. The banisher hit her hard, pushing her back.

Harry sat on the stands; his eyes filled with disbelief as he witnessed Daphne perform the one move he had seen performed many, many times in his previous world. The move, which had made many experienced fighters including him, confused, making them lose in the fight. The move that suddenly shifted from defense into an overwhelming offense- enough to destabilize the strongest of incoming spell chains.

"Raven..." he whispered, almost in reverence.

"Ignis Espadas!" Daphne yelled, as a powerful fiery arrow shot out of her wand, hitting straight on Fleur's shield, shattering it to pieces, much to the older witch's shock.

"Expelliarmus! Reducto!" The combination of the blasting curse and disarming charm threw the older witch backwards, losing her wand as she dropped down on the ground with a thud.

"AND DAPHNE GREENGRASS WINS THE DUELING TOURNAMENT!" Lee roared into his megaphone, as the crowds lost all signs of stability and cheered in her victory. Daphne slowly felt her legs give out, and just as she was about to fall, a strong pair of hands held her back. It was Harry.

"I won...," she whispered.

"You won." He whispered back.

* * *

The aftermath of the dueling contest was not as fun as the contest was. Fleur Delacour was seen stomping back into her tent, while the sponsors had barged in, surrounding Daphne from all sides. At the end of the next thirty minutes, Daphne had to herself, an assortment of various parchments, letters and cards to her. Then there were the bouquets from her friends and other spectators, a cheering hug from her sister and Tracy, and of course, the proud smile on the face of her parents and ultimately, the way her boyfriend was looking at her- it was so endearing. For the first time, life seemed perfect.

"So", Tracy was saying, "direct entry into the main dueling championship, avoiding the elimination rounds. This deserves a real treat, Daph!" she chortled, much to Daphne's exasperation. Her fingers were tightly holding her boyfriend's hands, as she sat up next to him.

"What's next?" she asked.

"Next is- you receiving the imminent chastising from our most illustrious Madam Pomfrey." Harry spoke out in a ringing voice. Daphne frowned as Tracy giggled at his antics. She just held him close. "I am happy I won."

"I am happy for you too, Daph." He promised.

* * *

Fleur Delacour paced angrily on the carpet inside her room in the carriage. That... that imbecile girl somehow had the better of her! Her! Fleur Delacour! International dueling champion! It was downright insulting. She was sure that right now, she was the laughing stock of the students—how the great Triwizard champion got defeated by a fourth-year- an _injured_ fourth-year.

It was simply outrageous.

"Fleur?"

Said girl instantly turned towards the doorway, staring into the deep eyes of her father. "Father!" she remarked, coldly.

"Still haven't forgiven me, it seems." Sebastian chuckled.

Fleur turned away, not willing to suffer the man's presence any longer. "What do you want?"

"My precious flower, daughters don't behave like that with their fathers."

"Fathers don't bind their daughter's will forcefully, either." She snapped.

Sebastian narrowed his eyes. Whipping his wand and casting a powerful privacy ward all around, "You should know better than speak about such things in public." He hissed uncharacteristically.

"Or what? You will force me into another-"

"QUIET!" Sebastian hissed. "You know why I did what I did. It's about our-"

"Enough!" Fleur shouted, "Just get out. I will do as you said, I will solve your problem for once and for all, and then- do not face me. Ever."

"Fleur, my baby, I-" Sebastian tried. "Please try to understand." He pleaded.

"NO!" Fleur yelled, her eyes brimming with tears. "I thought you were the best father ever. I thought you- and you made me this. You made me the person I hated most- A Veela who steals other's mates."

"Is this about the Greengrass girl? She can be persuaded-" Sebastian tried. "Potter is in the contract, he has to marry you, and you will become his wife."

"YOU DO NOT UNDERSTAND!" she raged. "He loves her. I have seen it. I thought I would defeat her, and show Harry that I am better, but even that chance is gone. You have made me something I despised being the most." She paused. "I hope there is an empty slot in Hell, Papa, for you can be sure you are going there."

Sebastian stood silent. "I suppose I cannot change your mind, then."

Fleur glared defiantly.

"Then I suppose we have nothing to say to each other. Your mother sends her regards." He replied coldly, before turning around and walking away. Fleur watched him leave, and with a humongous force, she shut the door loudly as she fell upon her bed, crying her heart out.

* * *

Sebastian growled as he entered the school Hospital wing, knowing that Harry Potter would be there with that Greengrass girl. He opened the door with a rough push, and stood inside, ignoring the filthy look from the school matron.

"Mister Potter, May I have a few minutes?" he asked, keeping his voice as neutral as possible.

Harry glanced at his ailing girlfriend, who was still in bed. She nodded subtly, as he stood up. "Sure."

"I need to have a private... discussion with you, Mister Potter." He muttered, "But this is not the place for it."

"Very well." Harry nodded, as he walked out of the Hospital wing towards one of the unused classrooms. Sebastian followed him back, swiftly. Entering one of the unused classrooms, Harry cast a powerful privacy ward and stared at the man who had been a troublesome entity in both of his lifetimes.

"What do you want?" he sneered, not even keeping up modest expressions. For some reason, Sebastian Delacour always brought out the worst in him.

Sebastian looked at the young man imposingly, trying to intimidate him. "You are not spending any time with your betrothed. You are not abiding by the rules of the contract. You insulted my daughter in presence of the whole school. I hope you have not forgotten about our deal..."

"Your threats, you mean?" Harry pointed out, keeping a suddenly casual demeanor.

"Don't try to be over smart with me, Potter. I own you with that contract. You will marry my daughter and-"

"My first son from your daughter will be the Lord Slytherin, yes I know", Harry snapped, "Get to the point."

"Then why aren't you-" Sebastian raged, but found nothing audible coming out of his lips.

"You seem to be harboring an illusion that you", Harry paused, "what was it that you said? Yes, own me..." His eyes suddenly turned as cold as his voice. "I know the terms of the contract very well, Delacour. I will marry your daughter when the time is appropriate, as is given in the contract. Until then, your daughter is free game. Tell her not to interfere between my love life and me. She has gotten a taste of what you one gets when trying to control Harry Potter."

Sebastian glared angrily. "Let me remind you that your godfather-"

"Is out of your clutches."

"What?"

Harry smirked. "You didn't think I will let you keep the upper hand always, did you?"

Sebastian glared. "Then I assume I just have to use my contacts to ensure that Peverell-"

"Do it, and then you will only wish that you didn't...," Harry hissed.

"I need to remind you who is in control of-" Sebastian began, but stopped midway at Harry's cold glare. He tried to lift his wand but for some reason, his entire body seemed to be petrified. He could have sworn that the boy did not have his wand in his hand. The young man walked close up to him, so much that they were just inches apart. "Tell me, Sebastian", Harry whispered. "Do you _feel_ in control?"

"You- you cannot-" the elder man perspired heavily, as he felt the aura of the mage close up front. It was cold and intimidating.

"I can-and trust me Delacour—the only reason you got the better of me then was because of my ignorance. Now," he paused, "the tables have turned. You might have stuck me in a betrothal, but that also means that you and your family can do nothing to harm me. Nothing. You try anything, and I break the contract. Now bugger off! OUT!" he hissed.

"This is not over." The elder man snarled.

"Of course not. You are still alive, after all." Harry snorted.

Sebastian looked outraged. "You will meet the same sticky end as your parents." He hissed. "I have heard they were meddlesome fools too."

Harry chuckled. "You know, Lucius Malfoy spoke these exact same words to me, right before his own elf kicked his arse."

Sebastian looked furious, as he turned back, darting away from the school compound. Harry returned to his girlfriend's side, sliding his hand into hers.

"Everything all right?" Daphne asked. Harry grinned. "Perfectly."

* * *

 **### AN : I suppose there were some revelations right there, regardless of it being a short chapter. As always, follow, favorite and review...**


	31. Chapter 31 : Azkaban

_He stood at the edge of the precipice, the bloodstained dagger of Salazar Slytherin in his right hand, gripping it tightly as he stared at the high walls of the supposedly impenetrable fortress that was Azkaban. Drops of blood trickled down the thick goblin steel, falling and splattering on the rocky terrain below his feet. The shifting sounds and the screams inside the fortress brought a kind of sick pleasure to his heart. A lot had changed in this world, a lot still left to change, but this was the beginning._

 _The beginning to the End._

* * *

 **The day after the dueling finals.**

Harry Potter stared down from the Astronomy Tower into the wide rocky crest of death beneath it. The Astronomy tower was a wonderful spot for lovers, who wanted a piece of solitude. It provided a wonderful scene- the beautiful star-filled sky above and the towering mountains and entire groves of conifers as far as the eye could reach. No one tended to look below—at the unavoidable death trap beneath-should one be so unlucky to fall from the top of the tower. As far as his memories were concerned, there was only one person he knew, who had fallen off the top of the very tower he was standing on.

Albus Dumbledore.

The old man, in his annoying habit of handing out second chances to everyone and their uncle, had hired one of truly vile people that ever existed. Severus Snape. So much was the old man's belief in second chances, that he never saw Malfoy and Snape plotting against his own damned life. Harry snorted. Where did all those second chances get him?

He snorted again. An Avada Kedavra through the heart followed by a shove down the Astronomy tower.

"Something funny, Harry?"

He instantly swerved back, his wand rushing into his palm as he shot his arm right up front, with the edge of his wand thrusted at the sudden unexpected visitor. With sudden surprise, he felt his eyes dilated as his mind registered the person at whom he was thrusting the wand.

"I am quite sure you have nothing to be threatened about with my presence." Dumbledore continued with an amused expression. Harry sighed and withdrew his wand, which went running back into the holster. Dumbledore's moustache quivered as he continued, "—that said, I must commend upon your agility and vigilance. That was one of the fastest draws I have ever had the pleasure to see."

Harry looked slightly embarrassed, as he nodded. "Force of habit, professor."

"You seem troubled."

Harry looked up at the man. This man, he thought, was responsible for the fact that he had a crappy childhood. While it was true that the man had nothing but good intentions towards him, but his actions were not good. Still, a part of him recognized the person as his first teacher and- somewhere in the deepest corner of his mind, as some form of elderly parent. Perhaps it was because of those one-on-one sessions he had with the Headmaster- moments when the grand old man let out a more humane side of his personality, the side that revealed the vulnerabilities of the Headmaster, the side that showed that he, like everyone else, was flawed.

 _ **Being smarter than most... my mistakes tend to be... worse than most.**_

"Anything troubling you, my boy?"

"Just thinking."

"About?"

For a moment, Harry thought about telling the old man to bugger off. But he didn't. He looked up at the old man in the eye and spoke carefully. "I am wondering about the recent happenings."

"The attack on Miss Greengrass."

"Amongst others, yes."

"Care to share?"

"I was...I was thinking about my life and the wizarding world in general. These people..." he paused, "they are sheep, gullible and ready to act at the tiniest provocation. A media outlet that spreads more lies than information and a community that eats up all those lies with relish. People who were part of Voldemort's followers are free and accomplished in the society, while people like my godfather had to suffer in Azkaban for twelve years. I am heralded as a savior one week and vilified the next as an upcoming dark lord, so..." he paused, "I was just pondering over the fact, that..." he looked up at the Headmaster. "Is it worth it?"

Dumbledore looked at the young man solemnly. Just fourteen years of age, and already the boy was surviving an adult world of cutthroat depravity. It was not fair. Then again, what was?

"Tell me Harry, whom are you fighting for?"

Harry stared up at the man. "What do you mean?"

"Whom are you fighting for? What do you hope to acquire from this?"

He pondered over the old man's words. Whom was he fighting for? It was not the wizarding population- they were weak, and feeble-minded. He was not fighting for the wizarding world. He closed his eyes.

"I am fighting to avenge my parents. I am fighting because I know that if I do not, he will destroy everything and everyone I love and care for. I am fighting because, I have the power to change things and that is what makes it my responsibility." He spoke silently, more to himself than Dumbledore.

Dumbledore looked at him curiously. "I admire that, Harry. Many decades earlier, I faced a similar situation. Before I faced Grindelwald." Harry looked up at the old Headmaster. At that moment, Dumbledore looked so old, so ancient and tired.

"I was just an educator, happy to be teaching transfiguration to young minds. I never chose all of this." Dumbledore muttered slowly, "I- I was friends with Gellert Grindelwald in his childhood, and made a lot of mistakes. We were young, carefree with a few scruples. We wanted to create a world where Magic would become might, and mundanes would be dominated."

"You?" Harry asked- surprise etched on his face. While he had read about all of it from Skeeter's work in the future, but to hear it from Dumbledore's own words—it was almost surreal. Dumbledore continued. "When Gellert was raging against the world, I was teaching at Hogwarts. People were dying and he seemed unstoppable. I had to act-"

Harry knew what happened after that. Dumbledore defeated Grindelwald. He won the elder wand. In one moment, the world changed because of that one battle.

"I know you hate my policy of forgiveness," Dumbledore mused, chuckling at Harry's surprised expression. "I wasn't born yesterday, Harry. I know bitterness when I see it. I know how you hate me for taking in Severus Snape and letting him belittle you at every chance. I know you hate the fact that I did nothing to give Sirius a fair trial while I helped a death eater like Snape."

Harry narrowed his eyes. Something was wrong. There was absolutely _no way,_ in which Albus Dumbledore would describe Snape like the way he just did.

"Severus Snape died yesterday." Dumbledore replied emotionlessly. "Passed away at saint Mungo's."

"What?" Harry could not keep the surprise from his voice. He knew that his Legilimency technique would make sure that Snape would be in a Hell of suffering, but it would not kill him. Something was _definitely_ wrong.

"How- I mean, what happened to him?" he stuttered.

"I killed him."

There were very moments in which Harry Potter had found himself so shocked, that he froze—his mind completely stupefied at the happenings. This was one of those very moments.

He blinked.

Pause.

Another blink.

"I am sorry, WHAT?"

Dumbledore chuckled. "I killed the man, the previous day."

"Wha- why? Why would you do, that?"

"Why don't _you_ tell me that? What could be the reasons that would force my hand to do such a deed, Harry Potter? Or should I call you by your _futuristic_ title- _Dark Lord Potter?"_

His wand spinning into one hand, while the other hand ready to create a magical energy burst, he pointed his wand at Dumbledore's face- "Who are you?" he snarled.

"I swear on my life and magic that I am Albus Dumbledore, the Headmaster of Hogwarts." Dumbledore replied simply, not even caring about the light blue sheen that radiated all over him as the spell took effect.

"I obliviated you. There is no way you could possibly retain-"

"I know, and regardless of how much I would like to chastise you about your behavior, I must confess—it was too... shall we say, _Gryffindorish_ of you to do that."

Harry glared at the old man in front of him. While he knew that he had power in spades, power much more than what the old man could ever imagine, he knew that Dumbledore surpassed him in skill. This was a wizard who was knowledgeable in the magical arts, modern and arcane both. Knowledge he had gathered all over his one hundred and fifty years of life.

"What is there to stop me from obliviating you all over again?" he hissed.

"You could." Dumbledore confirmed simply. "But, as unfortunate as that would be, I do not think it is for the best."

His wand pointed sharply at the man's temple, he snarled. "Explain."

The old Headmaster sighed. "Somehow I knew you would do that. I am here all alone with you on the Astronomy tower", he paused as he allowed his student to decipher his intentions. "If I had something planned against you, I wouldn't have acted so carelessly. Would I?"

The man had a point.

"Explain." Harry returned- his voice now a little softer than previously. The blasted twinkle returned in the old man's eyes as he chuckled. "Would you like to continue this conversation inside my office?" At Harry's stern look, he continued, "if it helps, I can take an oath that I bear no ill will, and am not going to attack you unless you do first."

Harry considered the offer as he stared hard at the Headmaster. "Do it."

* * *

Ten minutes later, a future dark lord was sitting in the confines of the Headmaster's office, alone with said Headmaster—the one he was so close to obliviating just moments ago.

"How did you find out?"

"Direct as usual, I see." Dumbledore quipped, much to Harry's annoyance. "A word from the more experienced wizard, my boy-when you have lived as long as I have and seen the things I have seen, you learn to act more vigilant."

"What do you mean?"

"I hold three important positions in the magical world, my boy. Chief Warlock, supreme Mugwump and here as Headmaster. Do you think that you are the first person that could have taken me by surprise and tried to obliviate me?"

Harry stayed quiet.

"What do you know about phoenixes, Harry?"

"They can carry heavy loads, their tears have healing powers and they make highly faithful pets," Harry droned out almost mechanically. Dumbledore chuckled at the boy's antics- the way Harry Potter had just repeated his own words back on his face was downright amusing.

"Yes, all of that and more. It is not only their tears, which have healing powers. Their song has powers too."

 _Phoenix song?_

Dumbledore nodded as he spoke out. "Five days ago, I had been to saint Mungo's to visit Severus, and by chance, I met my old friend healer Bernard. As is our daily schedule, we discussed about some frivolities but at the end of the discussion, Bernard advised me that I had forgotten a lot about our old days together. Just a usual observation." He paused. "I came back to Hogwarts and asked my friend and companion to help me, and as you know, Fawkes is quite the shameless exhibitionist when it comes to singing."

The phoenix instantly trilled in agreement.

"And there I was, hoping to reacquaint my mind with old memories, and spend some moments in nostalgia, when I discover something odd. Something very, very odd."

Dumbledore cast a steeled look at Harry. "I am having a discussion with you just after your altercation with Sirius Black, one about which, _I had no memory at all_."

Harry's fingers twisted, getting ready to attack the Headmaster at the earliest signal of hostility. Dumbledore however, seemed just as casual as ever. "A memory in which my own wand refused to obey my command, and instead, obeyed _yours_. You, who claimed yourself as the dark lord from the future..."

Harry just sat silent.

"Then I began studying the events that occurred all this year. Your ascension to your lordships, your clear understanding of the ancient laws and customs of our world, your sudden surge of power, knowledge, and if you do not mind me saying, a certain level of arrogance." He stared amusedly at Harry's expressionless face as he went on. "The best thing was-everything just fit perfectly."

"I am sure you are wondering why I did not treat you like a threat..."

"The thought did cross my mind." Harry countered softly.

"Initially, I did. Then, I remembered our discussion over the duel with Igor. I remembered your words and here I quote- Second chances do not matter. The dead do not matter. Only the living and the future matters." He paused. "Whoever could say these words with that level of intensity, could be many things, but not evil. Then I contemplated about your futuristic title of being a dark lord, and it kind of, begun to make sense. After all, as I myself confessed, there was a moment when I myself did think of the wizarding population as mere sheep."

He looked up at the boy in front of him. "I guess that brings us to the main crux of the issue. I have already given my oaths that I will not deter you. So, could you kindly tell me what is going on?" The last words were filled with a strange sternness Harry had never heard from Dumbledore's voice before.

"It is a long story." Harry finally replied.

"I am all ears."

* * *

After an hour of explanation of what had happened in the future, a very thoughtful Albus Dumbledore sat in front of him, completely immersed in deep contemplation. For the first time, Harry sat up on his seat with a serene look on his face, happy in a way that someone elder had known about his past and not judged him for that.

"It is quite disturbing, Harry, if what you said is right. I mean, I know and have always wondered that Tom would return and that he has taken steps to return back from the dead, but it was all conjecture and guesswork."

"You did not _know_ that I was a horcrux?"

"I did not. I had suspicions, yes- suspicions that you and Tom are connected in some way, but I could never figure it out. Your scar- I thought it was just some residue from the killing curse, something dark but yet completely harmless. But a horcrux-I never fathomed that bit."

Harry pondered over his reply. Perhaps Dumbledore came to know about the truth of his connection from his fourth year, when the dreams began. It was possible.

"I will assume that my initial suspicion that you were somehow connected to the serial killings is correct?"

Harry nodded. "Are you going to castigate me for it?"

"Any other time, I would have, but no, I will not. It will make me a hypocrite of the highest order."

"Why did you... _kill_ Snape?" Harry asked. Somehow, the fact that Albus Dumbledore had taken a life seemed a little hard to digest.

"Is it so...indigestible that I had taken a life?"

Harry nodded.

"Do you know why I believe in second chances, Harry? Because if I did not, the world as we know it, would not exist. During the war with Grindelwald, I personally killed thousands myself. One spell and hundreds were obliterated into corpses as I marched. When I won over the allegiance of the elder wand, for the first time, I understood what it was-what people had done in the quest to acquire the Death stick. I swore an oath to myself that the elder wand would never kill again, and since I was its Master, the oath held me bound. I am sure you know very well, that even during the first war with Voldemort, I always defended, never attacked."

Harry shook his head. It always puzzled him why the great Albus Dumbledore always reacted passively, never actively. The Order of the Phoenix was a passive reactive organization, ready to defend but not to attack. It all made sense now.

"But why?"

"Simply said, I was waiting for someone else to take up my mantle." On Harry's blank look, he chuckled. "I am an old man, Harry. I have stood my ground for far too long. However, we digress. The previous day when I went to visit Severus Snape, I was initially suspecting some kind of foul play with you involved in it. At first, I suspected that you might have done something in vengeance to the treatment he gave you. Imagine my surprise, when I found out about his true nature with my own eyes."

"You performed Legilimency on him."

"Ask no questions and I won't tell you any lies." Dumbledore replied smoothly. Harry chuckled.

"I am extremely sorry for what my past self-allowed him to do to you. I really am. However, imagine my surprise, when I felt my first stirrings of anger, and hatred rise up like bile within my throat. It was a simple spell and I cast it so seamlessly, something I have never done in fifty years." He looked up at Harry. "My oath broke the moment you took control of the wand, though it took me quite some time to realize that."

Harry nodded.

"What exactly are you going to do about all of this? Voldemort's return and this unknown opponent from your future?"

"Most of the horcruxes are gone, with only the Cup and the snake left. I was cutting off his followers one by one, hoping that by the end of the year, his most powerful supporters would be gone forever."

"You missed one thing, my boy."

"And what is that?"

Dumbledore crossed his fingers and sat up straight. "I am going to deny that I ever mentioned this to you. Being Chief Warlock, I am notified whenever something of interest happens in Wizarding Britain, and right now, one such event has recently happened- one which has been kept in secrecy because of the tournament."

"What... is that, professor?"

"Three days ago, Bellatrix Lestrange broke out of Azkaban."

 _Fuck._

* * *

The island of Azkaban had been a part of the Ministry of Magic since the early fourteenth century after the death of the dark Lord Emeric the evil. Emeric had committed experiments of esoteric magic on dark creatures for decades in that fortress- and when finally the arch wizards of the ICW got hold of him, they somehow bound the creatures, who were named as Dementors, within the fortress that was Azkaban. Two years later, the island of Azkaban was leased out to the British Ministry of Magic to use as a prison. The dementors were hired as the prison guards. Although a majority of the Light faction opposed the move, it went on to become the law. The dementors fed on human emotions, and hence the Ministry of Magic authorized the dementors to hold the prisoners within the walls of Azkaban. However, they could only feed off the emotions, not the souls. In return, the dementors would never come out of Azkaban without proper Ministry supervision.

Harry Potter stood in on the edge of one of the tiny hillocks overlooking the island that was Azkaban. The coast was clear. From his previous experience at the place, he was well acquainted with the geography of the entire island. A mile beyond the coast stood a mammoth stone tower said to be carved out of one single rock. Layers upon layers of high-powered wards stood between the main tower and the outer compound. The anti-apparation and anti-portkey wards begun right from the outer compound (where the janitors and the Warden lived) and extended all the way to an extra fifty yard length on all sides. Under normal conditions, Azkaban was nigh unbreakable, though Sirius had taken advantage of his animagus form and slipped off into the sea. Any other prisoner did not have that advantage. How Bellatrix of all people might have managed, it was something Harry had no answer to, yet.

He silenced himself and morphed into his lion form; the darkness of the night helping the dark fur to help camouflage himself better. Besides, animals had a lesser developed emotional senses, making them much less vulnerable to Dementor influence. He crossed the main wards and raced all the way into the main stony edifice.

Two prison guards were on active duty, and were strolling from one section of the entrance to another. Knowing very well that the wards at the entrance would instantly detect if some wizard (or animagus) would pass through them, Harry slowly morphed back into human form. Picking out a single piece of rock from the ground, he applied an engorgio charm on it wandlessly, enlarging it to the size of a food plate.

Harry considered his plans for the last time. While using the transportation technique of the Hallows could help him pass through the wards effectively, it would however, capture his magical signature and he did not want to leave a single string indicating his presence.

 _Time to do it the old way._

He raced towards one of the entry guards and just as he was about to reach him, he hurled the enlarged rock towards the man, hitting him straight in the abdomen—enough to hurl him back through the ward line. Then, a lot of things happened at that one moment.

Harry ran alongside the falling guard, using his animagus abilities to enhance his speed. Both he and the guard crossed the ward line at the same exact moment, and the wards triggered, registering someone crossing the ward line. The moment he was inside, he instantly vanished the rock away into nothingness. Since it was wandless, nothing registered on the wards.

Good job.

"What was that?" he heard the other man speaking to the fallen guard.

"I don't know." The fallen man grunted, picking himself up. "Something large came and hit me on my chest, and I fell."

"Yeah, I know. The wards triggered because of that. Did you see what it was?"

"No. It was too dark."

"Well, better get ready. The next patrol team will come in any moment."

* * *

Harry darted across the corridors, his silenced footsteps, added with the powers of the cloak making it nigh impossible for even the passing dementors to sense him. He crossed the low-security wing, dropped down into the lower levels into the dungeons, through the lower stairs, and finally into the main corridor. This was the high security wing. This was where the inner circle was held captive.

He walked in front of the prison chambers, sneering at the sleeping inmates. Now was the time to show how wrong the Ministry was when they had thought that Azkaban was impenetrable. While the anti-portkey and anti-apparation wards were too strong, there was one simple flaw to get around the wards.

The wards prevented anyone from travelling in or out. They did not register when someone would apparate from one point to another inside the warded property.

He put his hand into his robe and took out the dagger he had gathered from the Black townhouse. The dagger of Slytherin-used by Salazar Slytherin himself during the blood rituals he did on himself. Rituals Harry was planning to undertake sometime soon in the near future.

However, that was for later and not necessary in the moment. Right now, after all these years, the dagger of Slytherin would taste blood, once again. Imbued with basilisk venom, it was the most deadly weapon against wizards at the moment, the only other being Gryffindor's sword which rested safely within the confines of the Sorting Hat. He held the dagger in his right hand tightly and vanished.

He appeared inside Rudolphus Lestrange's prison chamber and kicked him right between his legs. Ignoring the flurry of curses and profanities that Rudolphus yelled, he drove the dagger right through the neck, ending the death eater's miserable existence in a flash. The yelling seemed to have awoken the others as movement and shouts pervaded the corridor. Harry flashed in front of Avery and drove the dagger through his forehead, killing the man instantly, followed by Rabastan and then Scabior. The sounds alerted the Aurors who appeared to be running into the compound as fast they could. The air suddenly became dense-it only made one thing certain. The dementors were coming. Harry quickly finished killing the rest of the captives before casting a powerful blasting curse wandlessly on the wall on the left.

 _Nothing like a good misdirection._

Activating the powers of the cloak, he transformed himself into smoke and phased through one of the walls on the other side, gliding down towards the miniature tower on his left. He could feel the rush of the dementors gliding all across, but the power of the cloak hid him from them. He transformed into the eagle form and glided out of the way into the sea, towards the nearest hillock just outside the fortress.

He transformed as he stared at the mighty walls of the fortress he had just escaped from without a scratch. He stood at the edge of the precipice, the bloodstained dagger of Salazar Slytherin in his right hand, gripping it tightly as he stared at the high walls of the supposedly impenetrable fortress that was Azkaban. Drops of blood trickled down the thick goblin steel, falling and splattering on the rocky terrain below his feet. The shifting sounds and the screams inside the fortress brought a kind of sick pleasure to his heart. A lot had changed in this world, a lot still left to change, but this was the beginning.

The beginning to the End.

* * *

 **### And the next chapter is here. I wanted to do a chapter in flashback. This was one, in case you did not notice. The starting paragraph is the present, and then the entire flashback continues until it reaches the present. As always, please review.**

 **### On another note, because of some technical issues on the website, the notifications for the uploaded chapters are not being sent out. (I did not receive them and the same was reported by many others). hence I would like to mention that THE LAST OF THE PEVERELLS : ORIGINS and THE BIGGEST HEIST IN WIZARDING HISTORY have both got updates. Do check them out. Thank you.**


	32. Chapter 32 : Lord-ing around Part 1

**MASSACRE AT AZKABAN!**

 **TEN DEATH EATERS DEAD AND ONE PRESUMED MISSING!**

 **PUREBLOOD-KILLER STILL AT LARGE?**

 **In a surprising turn of events, an anonymous surgical strike had been made into the deep security wing of Azkaban in the dead of the night the previous day. Ten imprisoned death eaters, who were al rumored to be part of You-know-who's inner circle were found dead—their bodies mutilated by knife wounds. Rudolphus and Rabastan Lestrange, Percy Mcnair, Antonin Dolohov, Augustus Montague, Gregory and Walden Selwyn, Rudolf Jugson, Jonathan Scabior and Thaddeus Nott- all of them died of deep wounds made by some kind of enchanted and poisoned dagger. Forensics report that basilisk venom was found in the injuries of the dead prisoners. Whoever the murderer was, the DMLE believes that it is someone with a vendetta towards the death eaters of the last war- seeing as none of the other prisoners or even the guards of the prison were attacked. Not only that, the attack had been surgical- the guards had offered a statement that there had been absolutely no disturbance in the prison wards at all. Only when the ward of the high-security wing triggered, the Aurors rushed in—with obvious expectation that some deranged killer had tried to break out of the prison. To their surprise, they found all the inmates dead and bleeding.**

 **There has been a surprise though. According to the Auror guards, Bellatrix Lestrange has been missing. That has given rise to two speculative theories- either the killer killed them all, and captured Bellatrix Lestrange away for some reason; or Bellatrix Lestrange somehow got out of the prison, killed her inmates and escaped out of Azkaban. We are not sure which theory is scarier.**

 **Minister Fudge has been seen to comment. "The security of Azkaban had been increased significantly after the notorious Sirius Black escaped out of it the previous year. We are of opinion that Sirius Black himself is the culprit, responsible for killing the rest of the inmates and fleeing away Bellatrix Lestrange, who is his cousin by blood. The DMLE has been given orders to increase monitoring activity in residential and town areas. Do not worry—the Ministry is doing its best."**

"So they are blaming the entire thing on Sirius now?" Harry chuckled. "Poor man. He got himself thrown in without a trial, and then lived a life of silent refuge with me for a year, and now this."

Dumbledore's moustache quivered. "Yes, his life has been rather unfortunate. I have my own share of misdeeds. I should have thought of securing a trial for him when the chance was there."

"He has taken up the mantle of the Lord Black. Surely that should give him a good entry into a proper trial?" Harry challenged. Dumbledore sighed and looked at him reluctantly. "It is difficult. Fudge is being an ostrich right now, and has found a scapegoat to blame his mistakes on. He would rather stick with the idea that Sirius Black broke Bellatrix out of prison than give Sirius a trial if that means that he stays as Minister for a longer duration."

"He needs to go."

"Yes, as unfortunate as it is. Fudge was a passable peace-time Minister, but considering the situations- I do not think that he will be a good Minister for the times to come."

"I _know_ he will not be a good Minister. Professor," Harry looked up as his eyes lit up with an idea, "Why don't we overthrow him? Or perhaps simply _assassinate_ him?"

Dumbledore eyed him strangely. "As much as I agree with you about Fudge's incompetence, I do not share with you your tendency to massacre at the barest thought. I admit I do not know what the situation was in the future, but you will need to curb this feeling, Harry. He who fights monsters must make sure that he doesn't turn into a monster."

Dumbledore's words froze him midway. Was he really that much indulging in blood? Was his blood lust out of control?

"I- I am not-"

"I am not calling you a monster, Harry." Dumbledore added swiftly. "I would be a complete hypocrite if I did so. Thousands have died by my hands—their blood is on my hands. I know the feeling—the bloodlust—the power and the exhilarated feeling it brings when you know that your enemy is utterly and completely destroyed. I know it, and I have felt it."

Harry nodded silently.

"However, that is just the very moment when the wheels start turning- rage, anger, hatred— the sudden release from the feeling of hopelessness—that is the feeling which turns good men, cruel. I was lucky to have Fawkes by my side. Everyone is not that lucky."

"I will—keep that in mind."

Dumbledore smiled. "I am glad that we reached an amiable agreement about it. Let us move on to other issues that are not as gruesome as this. A change is required, and I think I know just the thing that can help."

Harry raised an eyebrow.

Dumbledore raised his bowl of candies towards him. "Lemon drop, Harry?"

* * *

Daphne walked through the empty corridors towards the Slytherin dorms with Tracy. Ever since the finale event, she had been hounded by sponsors and agents alike—for things as simple as asking for an autograph to active scouting by the agents of different leagues and sponsors. A fourth year who defeated the Triwizard Champions—it was big news. Most people felt bitter that Harry Potter had not participated in the contest himself—the fight between Potter and Greengrass would be nothing less than legendary. However, rumors were abound that Harry Potter was actually Daphne's private tutor in defense, as well as the fact that both were courting each other. As it was, nobody had yet openly asked for any kind of clarification from her. The students and the Hogwarts gossip mill on the other hand—they were a different beast completely.

"Daph?"

"Yeah Tracey?"

"The bitch is coming."

"Huh?"

"Delacour is coming."

Daphne stopped and turned back. Tracey had spotted the French champion walking behind them as she turned corners. Daphne stared at the French Veela who had a haughty expression on her face.

"Can I help you with something?"

"Have you seen my betrothed?" Fleur asked snobbishly.

 _And she goes off again..._

"Harry isn't your betrothed." Daphne retorted.

"Yet. However, he is as good as being one." Fleur returned sassily. Daphne shook her head. It was vain trying to reason with this girl. She and her father were a completely different, crazy bunch of flubberworms.

"No", Daphne grit her teeth. The Veela had a way about her that got her anger on edge. "I have not seen Harry since the morning."

"Not giving you the time of day, is it? It is completely natural though..." fleur drawled.

"Is there any reason we are having this conversation?" Daphne retorted with irritation. "I think you have me mistaken for someone who likes to chatter mindlessly with you."

Fleur fumed. "When Harry returns, tell him to meet with me."

"Find him yourself. Some betrothed you are, having to ask from another girl about your betrothed." Daphne retorted sweetly. Fleur glared at her for a moment, before whirling swiftly and walking off.

"I swear I have begun to associate her as the female Draco Malfoy of Beauxbatons." Daphne sighed with irritation. Tracy giggled. "Where is Harry, by the way?"

Daphne sighed. "He is busy in all kinds' of- private work. He won't tell me because he won't be able to be completely all-true-istic about it."

Tracy muttered something about being 'too Slytherin' but Daphne ignored her anyway. "Has he asked you for the Yule Ball?"

"Yes." She blushed.

"Theo asked me out too." Tracy mumbled.

"That's great." She hugged her best friend tightly.

* * *

"What I never understood is why you let Fudge walk over you."

Dumbledore sighed. "It is complicated, Harry. I admit that if I wish, I will be able to throw him off the Ministerial seat in a week. But that is where the problems begin."

"Go on." Harry returned.

Dumbledore sat up straight. He had spent decades as the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot and had played and eaten political opponents for breakfast, but had never really shared his political expertise with anyone. Now that he was getting back actively into the political scenario, the fact that he had someone to discuss it with, felt quite relaxing.

"Consider this situation. Since 1982, Fudge has been the Minister of Magic. While I will not consider him as a political shark, he does understand politics. Fudge has three main points up in his sleeve. One, he doesn't take bribes."

Whatever Harry was expecting, this was not it. "He—he doesn't? But then, what about Lucius Malfoy?"

Dumbledore smirked. "Therein lies the genius. You see, it is not at all unusual for the Lords of the Wizengamot to donate money to various causes and charities. Lucius Malfoy is one of the many Lords who actively invest in Fudge's domain."

"His _domain_?"

"His vote bank and election campaign."

"Oh."

Dumbledore nodded.

"So he is taking bribes, but as his election-money. Bribes converted into legal donations."

"Top marks, Harry." Dumbledore returned.

Harry grinned.

"The next point- no matter what he looks like, Fudge has a remarkable sense of self-preservation. The problem is—he believes that doing _nothing_ is a good way of keeping him on the chair. Then again, when the situation demands it—he will ensure that the Ministry would be seen doing _something_."

"I know that from experience." Harry muttered, remembering Fudge's arrest of Hagrid in his second year.

 _The Ministry has to be seen doing something._ Fudge had proclaimed.

"Third. Fudge has actively planted many of his faithful agents in higher positions of the Ministry. Even if Fudge loses his post, he will still hold considerable sway- thanks to the amazing amount of dirt he has on the members of the Wizengamot and those faithful to him."

"I...see."

Dumbledore nodded. "Now even if we manage to remove Fudge from the Ministerial post, it presents another problem. The dark faction of the Wizengamot will most likely supply another candidate for the post—I will bet on Lucius Malfoy, who is at present one of the most powerful members in our society. We do not really have anyone on the Light side who could win against him."

"We do." Harry intervened.

"We do?"

"Yes."

"If you are thinking of Amelia- I am not sure if she can win against-"

"I was thinking of you."

Whatever Dumbledore had expected, this was not it. "Me?" he choked. "Harry. I cannot- power is my temptation and-"

"And you have proved that you are more than capable of keeping yourself away from it, professor."

"Harry, I think it is better if I stayed as Head-"

"No it's not." Harry deadpanned. "Stop being passive, Headmaster. You have stayed passive for too many times to count. Merlin knows even Voldemort would have had a tougher time rising up the first time if you were actively suppressing him. If you are Minister, you can have a strong force rallying behind you. Fudge goes, his toad goes, Malfoy goes. We completely clean slate and begin the game again. If we keep trying to hold everyone's hands, we are surely going to lose."

Dumbledore sighed. "I suppose you are right."

Harry raised his glass. "A toast to Minister Dumbledore, then?"

Dumbledore chuckled.

* * *

 **Two weeks later.**

The Wizengamot chamber was a beautiful piece of architecture. A domed circular room deep under the Ministry of Magic meant to provide a hint of King Arthur's infamous round table. The rows formed five tiers; the upper tier was the public gallery, open to all, and was a first come first served arrangement; there were no chairs simply standing room. The fourth tier was reserved for press, Ministry officials, family and retainers of the Wizengamot members with a bench provided for sitting. The third tier, with its chairs of silver upholstery, was for the newest members of the Wizengamot, the minor houses and Order of Merlin recipients. The second tier was reserved for the Ancient and Noble Houses who had gold upholstery. The final small lowest tier was on the floor and held the Chief Warlock's gold seat on the right alongside the scribe and the Wizengamot clerk who both had no voting rights; five similarly plain Ministry seats sat on the left.

Albus Dumbledore walked in, wearing robes of aquiline blue, a sharp contrast to the plum robes of the rest of the Wizengamot members, Harry observed. He was sitting on the second tier with the rest of the Lords and Ladies of the Ancient and Noble Houses. He could see Augusta Longbottom who gave him a brief nod, as he sat alongside Cyrus Greengrass. He noted the presence of Sebastian Delacour and nodded stoically, getting a jerk of the head from the Head of the Delacour family. Alongside him, he could spot Theo's father—Lord Nott—sitting alongside Lucius Malfoy, who was the Head of the Ancient and Noble House of Malfoy. He had made sure to dress up in proper Wizengamot robes, wearing the crests of his families (though he had added a notice-me-not charm to them for the moment).

He watched Dumbledore rise from his seat, and alongside him—the entire membership rose in tradition. "Close the doors. As Chief Warlock, I Albus Dumbledore, call this emergency session of the Wizengamot in order."

The doors of the Wizengamot closed with a great noisy sound, as the ambient magick inside the ancestral room rose to occupy and demonstrate its presence. This magick made sure that no person would be able to use his or her wand without proper permission and reason. Harry felt the magick compel him to stay calm and composed, and not resort to any kind of violence. It was a strange sensation.

"I wish to know the reason behind this emergency session, Chief Warlock." Fudge stated pompously. A fat, toad-like woman clad in pink coughed into her fists as she showed her confidence in the words of the Minister.

"With due respect, Minister Fudge. Your answer will be answered shortly. First, I would like to finish with the order of businesses." The chief clerk, Dullard rose up and called out loudly. "The first in the list of businesses is any alterations to the membership of the Wizengamot. We have five notices on that particular list."

Whispers rang amidst the crowd. Five new notices. It was _very_ uncommon.

"You have my permission." Dumbledore allowed.

Dullard cleared his throat softly. "The first on the list is the shift of the Ancient House of Slytherin from its Extinct status to Active."

Chaos reigned. Both amongst the Dark and Light factions- the Dark were completely disarrayed since the Dark Lord had been the heir of Slytherin and for the Slytherin seat to come active meant that the dark lord was back. The Light went insane with the declaration since it increased their sensitivity and fear knowing that Slytherin was a predominantly dark family, and no matter who it was that was coming to take the seat- it would not bode well for them.

The Slytherin seat on the second tier suddenly glowed with a bright silvery sheen as it demonstrated its state of activation. A thin stream of magical energy shot out from the chair and dissipated into the ceiling.

Dullard stood blankly for a moment. "Our next point of business- I declare the shift of the Ancient and Noble House of Potter from dormant to active."

Instantly, all eyes shifted towards the second tier where Harry Potter sat, chatting amiably with Cyrus Greengrass. He did not even look towards the furtive glances that everyone else was giving him.

"The third on the list is Ascension. For the Ancient house of Slytherin, I hereby call forth Harry James Potter as the new Head of Slytherin. Lord Harry James Potter will come forth and take his oath."

Pandemonium reigned. The public reaction was a complete veritable mess. Some just sat and gaped in disbelief, others raged angrily and claimed him as the new and upcoming dark wizard, some from the dark factions called him out as a fraudulent imposter trying to cheat and acquire the rights to Slytherin while some simply sat silent, observing everyone else.

Harry Potter stood up and strode down the stairs from the second tier. His robe was dark green with silver trimmings- the perfect choice for a Slytherin Lord. He walked down with a regal poise, shocking everyone else who believed that Harry Potter had grown up with muggles and had no sense and knowledge about his own heritage. H ignored the open mouths, the horrified expressions from some of the more fanatical families, the silent speculative looks on some of the other lords and voters, as he walked down and stood in front of the Chief Warlock.

Their eyes met.

Albus Dumbledore cleared his throat. "I hereby call Harry James Potter to take his oath as the Lord of Slytherin."

"Wait!" Lucius Malfoy intervened. Harry rolled his eyes. He had predicted that this was going to happen.

"Yes, Lord Malfoy?" Dumbledore urged.

"I state _neque feduciam_ on this ascension."

Whispers began. Augusta Longbottom observed the happenings with great interest. The principle of _neque feduciam_ or the move of no confidence was an option for a Lord of an Ancient family against an order of business in the Wizengamot. For Malfoy to vote no confidence on the ascension of another family though... It was going to be interesting.

"The motion of neque feduciam can only be offered by an opponent who has rights to ascension in this case. Do you want to challenge Lord Harry James Potter for the Lordship of Slytherin?" Dumbledore asked—his bright blue eyes twinkling madly.

Lucius hesitated. "No..." he paused, "I however, state his being underage as a reason for his disqualification."

"With all due respect Chief Warlock," Harry began, much to everyone's surprise, "I believe I should answer Lord Malfoy's accusation."

Dumbledore nodded. "Permission granted."

"Lords and ladies of the Wizengamot, and acclaimed members of our society," Harry began—moving to the centre of the stage and turning in a full circle so that he could see everyone- "The Familia Slytherin has never been formally a part of the Wizengamot since its creation. It has always preferred to be a part of the Lord's Gathering that existed before the creation of the Wizengamot. However, due to its status as an Ancient family, it had been granted the seats. The Lordship of my family is _completely dependent_ upon the tests performed on a claimant by the Family magic. Age has _never_ been a restriction."

Lucius sat down dejected.

Everyone sat stumped in silence as the Gryffindor Golden boy raised his right hand, the large signet ring glowing brightly as he did. "I, Harry James Potter, Lord of the Ancient House of Slytherin, swear to act with honor and fairness in the name of justice, law and magic, and accept the Seat of the House of Slytherin by blood, by law and by oath. So have I sworn; so mote it be."

An unruly roar resounded as the court members sat in awe, witnessing a large basilisk manifest out of thin air over the Slytherin seat. It was not a true basilisk, just an ethereal manifestation of the Slytherin family magick. The great snake hissed before fading to nothingness.

Complete Silence.

"Merlin's balls." Dullard exclaimed. For some reason, nobody cared to admonish him. He controlled himself and continued. "The next on the list is the Ascension of the Potter Lordship." He did not explain any further since it was unnecessary.

Harry rose his right hand once again—the Potter signet ring glowing brightly this time, as he spoke- "I, Harry James Potter, Lord of the Ancient House of Potter, swear to act with honor and fairness in the name of justice, law and magic, and accept the Seat of the House of Potter by blood, by law and by oath. So have I sworn; so mote it be."

The Potter family seat glowed with a golden sheen.

"I have an objection." Lucius Malfoy had risen again, but this time, many of his vassals had stood with him as well.

"Do you have another complain, Lord Malfoy?" Dumbledore asked amusedly.

"As a matter of fact, I do." Lucius drawled. "While I admit I was not knowledgeable about the rites of Slytherin lordship, I do know the rites for the House of Potter. The Potter family has been a part of the Wizengamot since the beginning of this assembly. On account of his being underage, I move the motion that he should be disqualified from his ascension."

"Objection overruled."

"Chief Warlock," the pink-clad toad-like woman began pompously, "surely Lord Malfoy presents a rightful issue. It is against the policy of the Wizengamot to allow-" she cast a look of deepest loathing at Harry- "little teenage boys to get away with fraud."

"I am completely knowledgeable about the Wizengamot's policies, Madam Umbridge." Dumbledore addressed her. "However, Lord Potter had just taken his Slytherin Lordship, qualifying him as a proper and legal member of the Wizengamot. That _completely_ overrides the fact that he is underage. Furthermore, the ambient magicks of the Wizengamot have accepted his proclamation. Surely a woman as intelligent as you know better than challenge that?"

Dolores Umbridge turned beet-red in embarrassment, as she sat down on her seat. Her flushed face did not however, stop her from shooting dark looks towards Harry.

"The third item on the list," Dullard proclaimed, "is a proclamation from Lord Black."

"OBJECTION!" Lucius and Cornelius both stood up. While the latter looked uneasy, the former looked completely deranged by the turn of events.

"My son, Draco Lucius Malfoy is the future Lord of Black. There is no Lord Black. This is a farce."

"This is no farce, Lord Malfoy." Dullard exclaimed. "I have here, a statement from Gringotts, verifying the authenticity of this proclamation. There is indeed, a new Lord Black, and he had taken up his lordship ring."

"And who would that be?" Lucius sneered.

"That would be me." A new voice sounded from the seat beside Cyrus Greengrass, as Sirius Black lifted the invisibility cloak to reveal his presence.

* * *

For ten seconds, the entire Wizengamot was shocked and stumped. Fudge was one of the earliest to gather himself as he yelled, "AURORS! ARREST HIM!"

"By the power of the Ancient Houses, I plead _colloquium."_

Everyone stopped. Lucius looked like he would like nothing better than strangle Sirius with his bare hands. Fudge looked blanched and completely shocked. The Aurors stood, waiting for orders and every eye turned towards the Chief Warlock, waiting for his next words.

" _Colloquium_ granted."

The motion of Colloquium ensured that a Lord had the option to speak out or give a testimony. It would happen just once. It was one of the powers vested to them to prevent others from attacking them until proven guilty. Harry had pondered through pages of Wizarding law until he had found this beauty.

"That's not acceptable. Black is a convict and a deranged murderer and I will not allow-"

"MINISTER FUDGE!"

Every eye turned towards Amelia Bones who was standing up, staring sternly at the Minister who swallowed. "Amelia-"

"As the Head of the DMLE and the regent of the Ancient and Noble House of Bones, I would like to say a few words. Chief Warlock, if I may?"

"Granted."

"On December 13, 1995- five days ago, I received an anonymous petition from a law firm, requesting access to the trial sheet of one Sirius Orion Black. I checked for said file, but strangely, I could not find it." She paused, letting the audience grasp the meaning of her statement. "I searched for the file in the DMLE archives and the Death eater trial archives of 1981, but couldn't find it there either. That proves one single statement." She paused as she drew herself to her fullest height.

"Sirius Orion Black never received a trial."

Absolute pandemonium.

* * *

"Surely that cannot be right, Madam Bones?" Cyrus prodded.

"I never received a trial." Sirius spoke out.

"You will not speak until asked, convict-" Fudge began.

"Fudge!" Harry spoke out coldly. "Do me a favor and just shut up."

"How dare you speak-" Umbridge began heatedly but a loud thud of the hammer stopped them all.

"Attention!" Dumbledore bellowed. "I have granted Colloquium to Mister Sirius Black, which means," he looked pointedly at Fudge, "he will receive his chance to testify."

That shut everyone up.

* * *

Sirius Black walked down the stairs. He ignored the horrified and shocked looks everyone gave him. This man did not look like a deranged murderer. He was dressed in expensive robes of acromantula silk, his dressing screamed wealth and power to all around him, as he stalked down casually until he had reached the center.

"Mister Black," Dumbledore began, "under the right of Colloquium, you have one chance to say your piece. I will call the ambient magick of the Wizengamot to test. Should you lie, your magick shall be stripped away from you. Do you agree?"

"Yes." Sirius deadpanned.

"Continue."

Sirius took a deep breath. "In 1981, James and Lily Potter went into hiding because of the Fidelius, because Voldemort-" -everyone squeaked and shuddered at the mention-Harry smirked- "Voldemort was actively hunting for them. Peter Pettigrew was the secret keeper and he sold them out to Voldemort."

Harry glanced at Dumbledore whose moustache quivered in amusement. If not for the ambient magick preserving silence during the testimony, he was sure that chaos would have reigned the legislative body. Sirius continued, "When I found out, I went to Godric's Hollow to find James and Lily dead, and Harry," he paused as he stared at his godson, "Harry was still alive while Voldemort was gone."

Everyone shuddered.

"I gave baby Harry to Hagrid and went on to search for Pettigrew, who trapped me and hit me with a confounding curse and an over-powered cheering charm. He hit the gas pipeline with a reducto, killing thirteen muggles and cut off his own finger. He then changed into his animagus form-a garden rat, and then jumped into the sewer line."

Everyone watched in awe as the biggest conspiracy until date unfolded in front of his or her own eyes. It was unfathomable.

"Why did you break out of Azkaban, Mister Black?" Dumbledore asked formally.

"I knew that the rat- Pettigrew was at Hogwarts. He was hiding as Ron Weasley's pet rat. I knew that Harry was in danger and I broke out of prison to save him. That is all."

The magick holding him released as Sirius let out a breath. Everyone just sat stupefied.

"I believe," Dumbledore began, "Sirius Black can be affirmed as innocent."

Not a _single_ person objected this time.

"Sirius Black, you will have to attend a Ministry hearing, clearing out the legal documents about your incarceration and get your wand and your previous post back, should you wish it. The Ministry will make sure that you get your reputation untarnished."

Sirius nodded silently.

Dumbledore cleared his throat. "Let us move on to business. Dullard if you please-

Dullard shook himself up, and continued. "The proclamation from Lord Black, proclaiming Harry James Potter as his heir by magic, by blood and by oath-" he paused, "Lord Black, do you concur?"

Sirius nodded. "I do. Until I find another acceptable blood heir of my own, Harry James Potter shall be the rightful heir by blood, by law and by magic for the Ancient and Noble House of Black."

"I accept." Harry answered, as the Black seat glowed with a purple sheen.

Nobody spoke anything. The consecutive shocks everyone was receiving since the start of the session had overwhelmed everyone to silence. Dullard got up from his chair. "The last point on the list is," he paused as he turned towards the Chief Warlock, "from Albus Dumbledore?"

Everyone glanced at the old man.

He got up.

"I wish to nominate Augusta Longbottom to take my place as the temporary Chief Warlock until I am done with my order of business."

Augusta bowed. "I will be honored, Chief Warlock." She stood up—her pose regal as she strode towards him. Albus Dumbledore walked out of his seat and stood in the center of the room. Augusta sat on the Chief Warlock's seat, and hammered. "State your proposal, Mister Dumbledore."

Albus nodded. "Ladies and gentle-wizards," he paused, "I hereby invoke _neque feduciam_ against the Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge."

Chaos reigned.

* * *

 **### the first part of the scene is done. This is perhaps the fastest chapter I have ever written. Two hours. I admit it was quite... tempting to finish the entire scene in this chapter, but then I decided against it. Anyway, the second part of the Wizengamot is going to be updated very,very soon. Also, 3k following and 2k favorites? You guys are wonderful!**

 **As always, reviews, please. Thank you.**


	33. Chapter 33: Lord-ing Around Part 2

_Dullard got up from his chair. "The last point on the list is," he paused as he turned towards the Chief Warlock, "from Albus Dumbledore?"_

 _Everyone glanced at the old man._

 _He got up._

 _"I wish to nominate Augusta Longbottom to take my place as the temporary Chief Warlock until I am done with my order of business."_

 _Augusta bowed. "I will be honored, Chief Warlock." She stood up—her pose regal as she strode towards him. Albus Dumbledore walked out of his seat and stood in the center of the room. Augusta sat on the Chief Warlock's seat, and hammered. "State your proposal, Mister Dumbledore."_

 _Albus nodded. "Ladies and gentle-wizards," he paused, "I hereby invoke neque feduciam against the Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge."_

 _Chaos reigned._

* * *

Everyone was shocked out of his or her wits. Some people decided that the wily old man had just made a joke in open session, since it was so unexpected of him to take an active stance in opposition, forget move for a motion of no confidence against the Minister himself. The Dark faction began yelling against him, while the Light faction was shocked at this sudden instigator move of the venerated Headmaster. Fudge looked shocked and completely blank, while Lucius Malfoy looked like he would like nothing better than tear Dumbledore to pieces.

"You are joking, aren't you, Albus?" Cornelius spoke up at last.

"Of course, I am after all, famous all across Magical Britain for my comedic performances." Albus refuted, erupting some hushed chortles in the crowd.

"Mister Dumbledore," Augusta began, "I assume you wish to proceed with this motion?"

Albus nodded. "Yes, interim Chief Warlock."

"I second the motion." Harry yelled out.

"I do, too." Sirius added briskly.

The whispers ended by the sound of the hammer. "I declare the motion open for debate."

Harry took this as his cue and darted a glance towards Albus who nodded. He swayed and move gracefully towards the stairs, followed by the newly minted Black Lord. They cut an imposing pair of figures as they saw the second and third tier stand up. It was a mark of respect—due to both the demonstration of power, as well as the political authority the two men wielded.

* * *

The Wizengamot members had different amount of votes allotted to them according to their positions. The Ancient families held five votes each, the Noble families held two votes each, the Order of Merlin recipients and the Ministry officials held one vote each. The Chief Warlock was a neutral judge and held no votes. Between the seats of Potter, Slytherin and Black, Harry and Sirius already held a staggering amount of votes- fifteen, and that was not considering the number of votes in the original Potter Alliance once lead by Charlus Potter, and the Black Alliance, led by Lord Arcturus Black. After Charlus 'deaths, the seat had fallen to James who to be frank, had not demonstrated any interest for politicking with old men in the middle of the day. Sirius had been groomed for his position in his childhood but his incarceration had prevented it. The lack of the Head had caused the Potter alliance to move into complete disarray, with the remaining members cleaving the alliance into smaller sub-alliances among their own. After Lord Black's death, Lucius Malfoy had taken over the reins of the old Black alliance and created his own—using his son's future inheritance as the future Lord of Black. Now that the Lords of Potter and Black were back, the balance had fundamentally shifted inside the factions of the Wizengamot.

Albus Dumbledore stood in the middle of the court floor. "Ladies and gentle-wizards, after my victory over the dark lord Grindelwald in the year 1945," he paused, "I was suddenly awarded with the prestigious titles of Grand Sorcerer, Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot and Supreme Mugwump at the ICW. Though honestly, I was simply happy to stay at Hogwarts and teach, as I have continued to do for the last fifty years."

Everyone was hanging to his words.

"I have seen students come to my school, grow up into respectable adults, and contribute to the world of Magical Britain. However, with the changing times, I have also noticed some mistakes that keep recurring again and again, and I believe," he paused, letting the entire audience hear his every word, "that if these mistakes, these... rotten elements are not removed from the legislative, it will be harmful both for this body and for Magical Britain as the whole."

"What are you insinuating, Dumbledore?" Someone from the third tier sneered.

"I was just going to expound on that, Lord Wenlock," Albus replied with a smile. Harry smirked. The veneer of a lukewarm smile was the old man's way to throw the opponent into a confusion.

"This man," Dumbledore began, nodding towards Fudge, "—has been guilty of embezzlement of funds, and taking bribes in return of favors."

"Do you have any proof of that, Mister Dumbledore?"

"Yes." Albus smiled. "I would like to call upon- Mrs. Eva Edgecombe, for a testimony."

The chief clerk signaled, and Eva Edgecombe, the Head of Department of Finance, stood up uneasily from her seat and walked down to the floor.

"Madam Edgecombe," Dumbledore began, "what exactly are your duties at the Ministry of Magic?"

The woman, rather thin and frail by appearance, looked at the revered Headmaster and answered, "I am in charge of all ministerial funds, and their dispatch into the various wings of the Ministry."

"Right," Dumbledore nodded his head as his moustache quivered, "So does that mean, no fund moves in and out without your knowledge?"

Eva nodded uneasily.

"I have here with me, an account from Gringotts, which describe that five hundred and sixty five thousand galleons had been collected from the public offerings and advertisements at the Quidditch World Cup. Is that correct?"

The spectators and other officials began to whisper all around. While public offerings and advertisements were a good source of income, the amount stated had been ridiculous. There was no way that any amount north of two hundred thousand could have been collected from the said sources.

Eva unwittingly glanced at Lucius Malfoy and Fudge. Lucius gave a barely perceptible nod. Eva flushed. "Yes."

"Right." Dumbledore turned the page. "And this is a receipt from the Department of Magical Transportation, which says that the cost of a portkey is twenty-five galleons, am I right?"

Eva nodded again.

"And according to Ministry reports, around two thousand portkeys had been leased out from the Department of Magical Transportation. Am I right?"

Eva nodded again.

"As some reporters would like to say, I am growing old, and senile. So perhaps, my calculations might be wrong. But I would like you to do the math- isn't the total amount of income from the Quidditch cup, not amounting to six hundred and fifteen thousand galleons?"

"It is."

"Get to the point, Dumbledore." Fudge exclaimed with an irritated expression.

"I am getting there," Dumbledore smiled again. Harry smirked. Things were about to get very interesting. "Yet, in the Ministry report, it states that the entire amount collected is one hundred and eighty five thousand galleons."

"I-I am sure that you have got wrong information Chief-"

" _Signed by you."_ Dumbledore finished.

That shut her up.

"So tell me, Madam Edgecombe, what happened to the remaining amount- the four hundred and thirty thousand galleons? Where did that money go?"

The woman turned pale.

"Madam Edgecombe, answer the question." Augusta Longbottom urged.

"I am not sure what you are trying to establish by this-" Fudge began, but was quickly silenced by the withering glare that Augusta sent towards him.

"We are all waiting, Madam Edgecombe."

Eva Mae Edgecombe was in a mess. On the one hand, she had intentionally helped the Minister embezzle funds for the last decade. How else would she have been able to maintain her lavish lifestyle? She knew that Fudge's inner group of advisors were death eaters, or at least, death eater supporters like Lucius Malfoy. On the other hand, she knew very well that if she were to open her mouth, Fudge and his supporters would get her executed in no time.

"Madam Eva Edgecombe, you are ordered to answer the question or else, agree for Veritaserum questioning." Augusta responded.

"That's against the standard code for prosec-", Umbridge began to screech, but Augusta glared at her, stopping her mid-speech. "This is not your standard prosecution case per se, Madam Umbridge. Another useless remark or objection will cause you to be sent out of the courtroom." She deadpanned.

Umbridge cast a look of deepest loathing as she succumbed to Augusta's order.

"The amount had been transferred to Minister Fudge's private account in Gringotts."

Chaos descended over the courtroom.

* * *

Harry and Sirius smirked at the turn of events from their comfortable seats on the second tier. It was very amusing and entertaining to watch the old man eat Fudge for breakfast- why the old man never used his prowess and skill for some active work all this while. Harry could never fathom. It had all began with the private meeting the three of them had had after he had convinced Dumbledore to run for Minister.

" _ **You will never be able to prove that Fudge takes any amount of bribes." Dumbledore pronounced. "Cornelius is extremely skilled at managing his finances. The Head of the Department of Finance-one Eva Mae Edgecombe, she is his rathole. She manages the entire fund transfer occurring throughout the Ministry. It is easy, very easy for her to simply move one account to another and embezzle the money in the process."**_

" _ **How about embezzlement of funds, then?" Harry suggested out of nowhere. "We can post it against him."**_

" _ **Not possible. The fund transfer process is done in Gringotts. Gringotts takes confidentiality very, very seriously. They won't be willing to reveal Fudge's account statements on any accord."**_

" _ **But, hypothetically, if we could get them to give us Fudge's account statements, the case is iron-tight?"**_

" _ **Hypothetically, yes." Dumbledore complied, "but as I said, in the entire history of Gringotts, they have never revealed private account information."**_

 _ **Harry smirked as he eyed the Sorting hat. "I might have an idea how to do that."**_

It had not taken him much to convince Griphook into a bargain. After all, the goblin had allowed him access into the Lestrange Vault in exchange for the Sword of Gryffindor. It helped that the goblins were no fan of Fudge, what with the way the man had repeatedly tried to put more stringent rules and restrictions over them. It had taken some hmm-ing and haw-in but then Harry had thrown in another carrot- a future favor to the Goblin community if Dumbledore became Minister, and the deal sweetened.

It had been hard work, but to see Fudge sweating as he was now, made it completely worth it.

* * *

Dumbledore cleared his voice. "Four hundred and thirty thousand galleons, Interim Chief Warlock. If my calculations are correct, that in itself is Minister Fudge's annual salary for seven years. The entire amount had been transferred, just as Madame Edgecombe has revealed, into Cornelius Fudge's private account, three days after the event.

The public uproar reached higher decibels as Augusta strained to keep control.

"My next witness- I would like to call Warden Charon from Azkaban."

The public looked blanched. What was Dumbledore playing at?

Said Auror came up and took his place at the centre of the room. "Warden Charon, I believe you have a memory to submit on this occasion?"

Charon nodded and looked at Augusta for permission. She nodded as he took out his wand and placed it at his temple. Withdrawing a memory, he held it out for everyone to see.

"Pensieve memories are not regarded as proper evidence." Dolores Umbridge screeched.

"It is quite unusual, Madam Umbridge," Dumbledore began coolly, "that you lost your self-control over such a minor thing even though the entire judgement is about the Minister. One might think that you are a part in his dealings."

Umbridge glared but flushed when she found everyone staring at her.

"Madam Umbridge, this is your final warning." Augusta warned.

Umbridge kept silent.

"Warden Charon, please proceed."

Under orders from the Chief Clerk, a Wizengamot pensieve was brought in. Charon entered the memory inside it—the white flakes dissolving inside the churning waters of the device. This pensieve was different—it had a powerful projection rune inbuilt into it, enabling everyone to witness the memory without entering into the pensieve personally.

 _ **The scene was inside the Ministry of magic- the Minister's office to be exact. Warden Charon walked into the main office corridor, and stepped into the office of the Undersecretary. The room was very different from the other Ministerial offices. For one, there seemed to be too many photo frames of cats in the room. Dolores Umbridge sat on a plush chair behind a table.**_

" _ **Ah, Warden. Come in, come in."**_

" _ **I received a letter from your office, asking me to report." Charon began, but Dolores seemed uninterested in listening. "Tell me, Warden Charon—is it true that your brother is an unregistered werewolf?"**_

 _ **The man's features hardened. "He was- he was scratched by one, two months ago. He has developed certain, wolfish instincts, but," he choked, "he is not a full werewolf."**_

" _ **Doesn't matter. He has to be registered." Umbridge spoke in a no-nonsense tone.**_

" _ **Madame, he is just a child. He is just-"**_

" _ **He is a BEAST!" Dolores hissed, "Nothing else." Her tone softened instantly as her voice became sickeningly sweet. "He has to be registered. Unless, of course, you can convince me not to do so."**_

 _ **The Warden's facial expressions hardened.**_

" _ **What exactly do you want, Madame?"**_

" _ **Me? I want nothing. The Minister however, requires a little help. And it is my job to ensure that he is happy. So tell me Warden Charon, do you love your brother enough?"**_

 _ **Charon said nothing.**_

" _ **You have to release Bellatrix Lestrange from prison. It is a direct order from Minister Fudge. Additionally, this needs to be kept quiet. It is a private family affair for Lucius, and he wants no problems. I hope you understand."**_

 _ **The Warden grit his teeth. "Yes, Madam."**_

" _ **Very well, you may go." The Warden nodded as he began to pace back. "I hope I do not need to remind you to keep it a secret?" She called out from behind. The Warden nodded jerkily as he stepped out of the room.**_

The memory dissipated as the court turned to stare at the blanched face of one Dolores Umbridge. She got up with whatever remaining dignity she had, and pompously remarked, "that is a farce, no such thing ever happened. This is a conspiracy, a conspiracy to debase the Ministry of Magic!" She was fairly yelling by the end of it.

The public however, thought differently.

"Aurors, arrest Madam Umbridge." Augusta ordered, as Dawlish and Scrimgeour walked up and arrested her, dangling her down to the center, ignoring her cries of protest.

"Put her to Veritaserum testimony."

"I am afraid I must object to-" Fudge began.

"Cornelius Fudge," Sirius addressed. "You are already in deep shit. Do not try to dig your grave any deeper."

That shut him up.

Veritaserum was brought in, and three drops had been administered.

"Begin the questioning..." Augusta ordered.

"Is your name Dolores Jane Umbridge?"

"Yes."

"Have you ever intentionally carried out illegal activities because Cornelius Fudge demanded it?"

"Yes."

"Narrate to us, _each and every one_ of those cases."

Dolores gulped.

Harry Potter smirked. It was going to be a very long testimony. He glanced at Dumbledore. Their eyes met again.

" _ **I never asked you then, how exactly did you find out that Bellatrix Lestrange had escaped from Azkaban?"**_

 _ **Dumbledore chortled. "I am sorry, if that was how it might have sounded. Let me rephrase that - Bellatrix was helped to escape from Azkaban."**_

" _ **WHAT?" Sirius exclaimed with anger.**_

" _ **Who did it?" Harry asked- his eyes thin like slits.**_

" _ **Take a guess."**_

" _ **Lucius Malfoy, via Fudge?" Sirius offered.**_

" _ **Correct, but not to the point. Fudge ordered it, but the matter is too delicate for him to directly deal with it."**_

" _ **Umbridge then?"**_

' _ **Top marks, Harry."**_

 _ **Sirius let out a sigh. "Ministry employees are aiding prisoners to escape from prison. Oh, the irony."**_

" _ **How did you find it out?"**_

" _ **I met with the Warden. You would be surprised what a little amount of skilled passive Legilimency can do." Dumbledore smirked.**_

 _ **Harry gaped. "And the Warden- he did not even suspect?"**_

" _ **Staying in Azkaban does not do wonders for your mental shields, Harry." Sirius answered for him, as Dumbledore nodded in appreciation.**_

" _ **I am surprised that you are focusing more on the Umbridge woman, and less on Fudge." Sirius observed.**_

 _ **Dumbledore chortled. "When you have spent politicking around for the time I have, you tend to learn a few lessons. The Minister worries more about the throne than the King does. In our case, the undersecretary is more important than the Minister is-after all, she is the one who does all the dirty work. The Minister barely needs to know how it happened, just that it happened."**_

" _ **Plausible deniability."**_

" _ **Correct, Harry." Dumbledore returned, as he picked out another lemon drop from the candy bowl.**_

" _ **But", Harry paused, "if we have this information in hand ready, why do we even need to bring the fund embezzlement case before everything?"**_

 _ **Dumbledore chuckled. "Harry, Harry- first you lay the table. Then you serve the dish. Unless you prove that something fishy is there in the meal, you cannot ask for a more detailed inspection."**_

" _ **What he means," Sirius began, "is that if you ask for the Warden's memories in the first case, there is a very good chance that they would simply ignore it citing that 'pensieve memories are not an acceptable piece of evidence.' You need to bring in the little things first- let the crowd believe that you have a point. Then, you unload the real hippogriff shit- the one which will send Fudge and Umbridge packing into Azkaban."**_

" _ **I couldn't have explained it better." Dumbledore remarked.**_

* * *

After one long hour of revelations, the official count on Minister Fudge was thirty-seven counts of fund embezzlement, twenty-eight counts of illegal dealings and surprisingly, ninety-two counts of fraud. Fudge was almost a dead man walking by the time Umbridge was done with. However, Fudge was not the only person who had been incriminated. Lucius Malfoy had been held guilty for twenty-six cases of bribery, and another eleven cases of illegal dealings. Umbridge had given out all the names of those purebloods who had been elevated to the position of Department Heads, after they had sworn loyalty to the Minister.

The court was almost buzzing with simmering anger when Augusta Longbottom banged the gravel again. "Motion of _neque feduciam_ is up for vote. Show of those who think Cornelius Fudge as innocent?"

One hand rose up. Cornelius himself.

"All those who think him guilty? Show of hands."

Every other hand rose in the room.

"Order!" Augusta barked. "Cornelius Fudge, you are stripped off your position and powers. Aurors, arrest him."

Fudge yelled like a deranged man as Scrimgeour walked towards him, the handcuffs clinking as he held them close to the ex-Minister. However, Augusta was not done yet. "Since Dolores Umbridge has revealed that she has been an active supporter if not a partner in the illegal deals, she will be arrested too. Lucius Malfoy-", she darted a steely glance at the man, "the testimony of Dolores Umbridge has revealed you to have participated in twenty-six cases of bribery, and another eleven cases of illegal dealings. Aurors, arrest him."

"I want to speak to my solicitor." Lucius gnashed his teeth.

"Oh, you will." Augusta challenged back, "but after you are taken to the DMLE cells." She turned towards the Auror contingent. "Arrest them." She banged the hammer hard as she continued. "The Wizengamot takes an hour break from its session. It will continue after said time has expired. Nominations for the Interim Minister of Magic shall be accepted after the break."

" _ **Why are you forcing me so much to try for the Minister's post, Harry?"**_

" _ **Because it is our only chance, professor. Sirius will not get the votes. I am underage, and Amelia is on a neutral ground. If our plan works, Fudge goes, his toad goes, Lucius Malfoy goes. You bag the Minister position and you get to clean the slate for once and for all."**_

" _ **In that case, I hope your Clean Slate protocol works as we want it to do."**_

 _ **Harry winked. "I am sure that between the three of us, we can figure something out."**_

 _ **Dumbledore chortled, as the three highly intelligent and slightly unhinged wizards sat down to plan their prank on the Wizengamot.**_

The Wizengamot had dispersed for an hour. After the break, the nominations would begin. It was turning out to be a very successful prank. Harry let out a smile, almost akin to the one Dumbledore gave.

And it didn't even hurt.

* * *

 **### So here goes the next part of the Wizengamot prank. the next part of 'Lord-ing around' will be posted in around 2 days. As always, review, review, review... Thank you.**


	34. Chapter 34 :Lord-ing Around part 3

**LEGENDARY WIZENGAMOT SESSION!**

 **CORNELIUS FUDGE REMOVED FROM MINISTER'S POST!**

 **CORNELIUS FUDGE, DOLORES UMBRIDGE, LUCIUS MALFOY- SENTENCED TO AZKABAN!**

 **SIRIUS BLACK INNOCENT?**

 **MINISTER DUMBLEDORE TAKES SEAT!**

 **HARRY POTTER—THE NEW LORD SLYTHERIN?**

 **On a very surprising note, the emergency session of the Wizengamot held the previous day was history in the making. An exorbitant amount of revelations, shocks, surprises and amazements rocked the prestigious body, something that no one had ever seen coming.**

 **In a surprising move, Harry James Potter (age 14) was seen to rise before the Chief Warlock to take up the lordship and seat for the Ancient House of Slytherin. Yes, my dear readers, Harry Potter, the defeater of you-know-who is the new Lord Slytherin. It has raised many new questions. How did Harry Potter inherit it? Since the Potters had no ties to Slytherin, the sudden development has raised speculations about Lily Evan's parentage. Could it be that the highly intelligent, muggleborn Lady Potter was actually the dark heiress of Slytherin? Some of our experts recapitulated that Lord You-know-who referred to himself as the HEIR OF SLYTHERIN. Does this mean that Harry Potter and You-know-who are related?**

 **Lord Harry James Potter then took up the mantle of Lord of Potter and then the heirship of the Black family. Lucius Malfoy, the Head of the Ancient and Noble House of Malfoy raised his objection about Potter's right to the Black heirship- a move that was instantly deflected away by the most unexpected presence of the convict Sirius Black himself. What happened after that is one of those things that go down in history. Chief Warlock Dumbledore granted Sirius Black a Colloquium (which is effectively a Lord's plea for conference- a power vested to them to help them against improper legal judgement) to him, leading to one of the most shocking revelations in the last two decades.**

 **Yes, my dear readers, Sirius Black never betrayed the Potters. The betrayer in question was actually Peter Pettigrew who led the dark lord to the Potters. Peter Pettigrew killed thirteen muggles and framed the young mister Black as the culprit. The Wizengamot effectively granted Mister Black complete freedom and restitution, should Mister Black (who is the present Lord Black) want it.**

 **The session moved on to another order of business- again another surprise since it was Albus Dumbledore who had submitted it. The Chief Warlock receded his chair to lady Augusta Longbottom as he raised a motion of NO CONFIDENCE against the Minister of magic—Cornelius Fudge.**

 **What followed could be termed as one of the most memorable events in Wizarding history. With extraordinary efficiency and resourcefulness, Albus Dumbledore was able to prove that Minister Fudge had embezzled hundreds of thousands of galleons into his private vaults, co-conspired and made illegal deals partnering with his senior undersecretary Dolores Umbridge and Lucius Malfoy. The former two have already been sentenced to Azkaban while Lucius Malfoy has been retained in the DMLE cell for a further Ministry investigation. It goes without saying that with the absence of Lord Malfoy, and with the advent of the new Lord Potter-Slytherin and Lord Black, the scales have shifted. Lord Potter-Slytherin and Lord Black seemed to be supportive of Albus Dumbledore. Together, the new trio had been the fulcrum on which the entire balance of the Wizengamot shifted the previous day.**

 **The Lord Potter-Slytherin also went to say that House Potter was once again in alliance with the Houses of Longbottom, Bones, Mcmillian, Bainbridge, Brown and Patil. House Potter also established treaties of friendship, mutual aid and support with House Greengrass. The main excitement rose when House Potter proclaimed that House Potter, House Black and House Slytherin were henceforth bound as a** _ **Clan.**_

 **For those of our readers who are ignorant of the specific meaning of the term, a Clan refers to a stronghold, usually between two Houses, who agree, using blood rituals, to be together forever. As of now, House Potter, House Slytherin and House Black are one. To be against one will be to be against all of them. The stronghold- one that commands a staggering number of votes- Fifteen, of their own, plus the other twenty-one votes from their alliance, has established themselves as one of the most powerful blocs in the Wizengamot, wielding a powerful number of votes- thirty-six. How this new node of the Wizengamot affects the future policies is still left to be seen.**

 **The nominations for Minister had been put forward, with the entire Potter Clan and its allies voting for none other than the newest hero of the public—Albus Dumbledore, who surprisingly, accepted the nomination, relinquishing his seat as Chief Warlock for the nomination. The Dark factions voted for Lord Nott while the neutral factions followed Lord Greengrass' decision and voted for Albus Dumbledore. By an overwhelming majority, the grand sorcerer and Headmaster of Hogwarts- Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore was voted in the new Minister of Magic.**

 **What needs to be seen is how the Ministry of Magic functions with Albus Dumbledore as its head. We wish Minister Dumbledore the best for his new position and duties.**

Harry turned over the newspaper, folded it and put it on the table. Albus Dumbledore sat on the plush chair behind the table, looking slightly uncomfortable at the change of venue.

"Anything wrong, Headmaster?"

Albus let out an uneasy grin. "Just a tad uncomfortable. I spent fifty years of my life as Headmaster, and another twenty years of my life as a Transfiguration professor, and now by a sudden turn of circumstances, and may I include _, forced by you_ ," he returned pointedly, ignoring the smirk on Harry's face- "I am now holding a new post I have no idea what to do with. I feel like I was during my first ever class as a professor."

"But prof—I mean, Minister," Harry gave a teasing grin, "you have been Chief Warlock for ages. This should not be much different. Besides, we have the next part of our Clean Slate protocol to finish."

Dumbledore nodded. He waved his hand as he wandlessly summoned a stack of files from the desk adjacent to his. "Fudge managed to squirrel in a lot of people. Department of Finance, Department of Transportation, Department of Magical Sports, phew!" he sighed, "a total of one hundred and thirty seven people working right under our noses, most of them in influential positions, aiding him in all of his illegal pursuits."

"One hundred and thirty seven!" Harry exclaimed. "That's- a lot."

"Tell me more."

"What should be done with them?" Harry asked.

"Should be thrown out." Dumbledore muttered to himself.

"Do it."

Dumbledore and Sirius blanched as they stared at the expressionless face of Lord Slytherin. "Harry—I understand that Clan Potter holds a great strength at the moment, but firing all of those employees without proper reason would cause complete disarray in the Ministry. We do not need that at the moment." Dumbledore turned to Sirius. "Sirius, please show him reason."

Sirius turned towards his godson contemplatively. "I suggest a middle ground.' He whispered slowly after some thought. "How about we do this? Instead of blatantly firing them, why don't we use the already established ground of corruption and call for new interviews. We can put forward news for vacancies, inviting everyone regardless of blood, for the Ministerial jobs. As for the existing job holders," he paused for a moment, "we can give them a chance to sit for the interviews too. If they are indeed the best fit, they get the job. Either way, no one can complain us of partiality."

Dumbledore looked at him speculatively. "You seem to have inherited the political acumen of your grandfather, Sirius. Arcturus would be proud of you."

Sirius did not know whether he was complimented or insulted. Noticing his green face, Albus explained. "It was a compliment."

"I thought you and Grandfather were opponents."

"Yes, but that doesn't mean I can't expect his swan-like competence in politicking."

"Yes, he was a born politician."

Harry watched the conversation with great interest. For a moment, he considered summoning Arcturus Black's spirit using his powers but then left the notion, focusing on the more important matters at hand.

"So are we going forward with what Sirius suggested?" he asked with anticipation. Dumbledore glanced at Sirius and shrugged. "It is the best we have got so far."

"What is going to happen to Malfoy?" Sirius interrupted. "Is he going to get a trial tomorrow?"

"It can't be helped. Lord Nott has been especially unhelpful with that regard." Dumbledore answered. Harry rolled his eyes. Unhelpful, really? Nott had been an outright bastard, completely antagonistic to anything and everything that the Potter alliance had voted for.

"The darker families love him, and with Lucius gone, he is the de-facto leader. If he could be removed from the situation, I suppose we could handle matters with much ease."

"Perhaps something could be done about it." Harry muttered to himself. Dumbledore looked at Harry and felt alarmed. "Harry, am I supposed to know what is going on in that byzantine mind of yours?"

Harry gave him a marauder-ish grin that all but screamed that he was up to no good. "I don't think so, Minister. _Plausible deniability_ and all that." he smirked as he got up alongside Sirius. "We will leave you to your job, Minister. Have a nice day."

The duo walked out of the office, leaving the new Minister of Magic alone to his musings. "I have unleashed a monster." Dumbledore shut his eyes and whispered.

* * *

 **Two days later...**

"Lucius Malfoy, you have one chance to say something before the vote for your judgement is passed. Speak now or forever hold your peace." Dumbledore declared as the prisoner stood in front of him. For security reasons, his wand was taken away from him, though he was without chains—a privilege of his family status.

"Yes." Lucius answered solemnly, "I wish to reveal a particular memory that will reveal my innocence."

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows in surprise. What was Lucius Malfoy playing at?

"Are you sure about that, Lord Malfoy? Your conviction is based on several counts of illegal deals. No pensieve memory will be enough to clear it."

"Will I get what I want? Or is this prestigious body so sunken under the new rule that I will be denied?" Lucius continued pompously. Dumbledore shook his head. "Chief Warlock?" He glanced towards Lady Augusta, who shook her head primly before she ordered.

"Bring the Wizengamot pensieve."

The pensieve was brought in. One of the Aurors, one John Dawlish walked up to Malfoy to extract his memory. That was when all shit hit the fan.

The moment Dawlish placed his wand on Malfoy's temples, the man spun around, grabbed Dawlish's wand and spun towards Lord Nott, who looked completely blank at the turn of events. With a vicious snarl, Lucius yelled-

"AVADA KEDAVRA!"

The green curse swept its way through the completely shocked crowd as it hit Lord Nott on the chest, throwing the man off as he fell lifeless on the ground, toppling down the stairs. Instantly, a bevy of stunners from the Aurors flew towards Malfoy, dropping him unconscious on the ground. Pandemonium descended into the courtroom.

"ORDER! ORDER!" Augusta tried to maintain decorum but it was all in vain as people shrieked and jumped out of places, terrified and disarrayed at the unexpected turn of events. All this while, Albus Dumbledore had eyes for the one young man on earth who at present sat on the seat of Lord Potter, with that expressionless façade held on his face like a mask.

"You have always been resourceful, my boy. But this time, you have even crossed your own limits of resourcefulness." Dumbledore muttered to himself.

Harry sat on his seat as Lord Potter watching the madness consume the legislative body. His plan had worked seamlessly. For a moment, he allowed the ghost of a smile flood his lips as the activities of the previous day came to mind.

 _ **Harry waded into the Ministry compound where the DMLE cells were located. His ethereal form using the powers of the Hallows allowed him to pass without any restriction through the Ministry wards. The moment he stood in front of Malfoy's cell, he turned corporeal. Both of his palms outstretched towards the sleeping man, he hissed in Parseltongue.**_

" _ **Potestas imperium."**_

 _ **It was the modified version of the Imperius Curse he had developed during his years as a Dark lord. It was much more difficult to identify and lacked the 'dazed eyes' symptom as was visible in the Imperius. Malfoy had tried the Imperius defense when Voldemort had been defeated in 1981. Now, he would actually be under the Imperius in his next trial, poetic justice at its ruthless best.**_

 _ **He smirked.**_

" _ **You will somehow request an Auror to come near you during your trial. You will snatch his wand and kill Lord Nott with the killing curse. You will not remember me putting this curse on you."**_

" _ **Obliviate."**_

 _ **It was done. Making sure he was alone and unseen, Harry faded away.**_

He sat silently on the seat, as his eyes met with Dumbledore's blue ones. Confused, surprised blue met tranquil, ruthless green. Very, very subtly, Dumbledore nodded towards him.

Harry nodded back.

* * *

 **An excerpt from the Daily Prophet on December 22, 1994.**

 **LUCIUS MALFOY MURDERS BENJAMIN NOTT IN OPEN COURT!**

 **MALFOY SENTENCED TO DEATH BY VEIL!**

 **MINISTRY CALLS FOR NEW JOB SEEKERS FOR EXISTING POSTS!**

 **MUGGLEBORNS AND HALF BLOODS REJOICE AT GETTING A FAIR CHANCE AT JOB OPPORTUNITIES!**

 **MINERVA MCGONAGALL NAMED NEW HEADMISTRESS OF HOGWARTS. MINISTRY CREATES NEW EDUCATIONAL REFORMS.**

 **TRIWIZARD TOURNAMENT GETS EXTRA SECURITY!**

 **DEATH EATER TRIALS TO RECOMMENCE FOR REVIEW?**

Daphne turned over the paper, folding it and placing it on her desk. She silently nodded her head in complete bemusement. All of the happenings had HARRY POTTER written all over it.

"All-true-istic my arse." She muttered to herself amusedly.

* * *

 **Back at Riddle Manor.**

"CRUCIO!"

Peter screamed in agony as hot knives pierced into his skin, his skin felt like it was boiling and for an instant, he wished that he would be dead instead of suffering the menace of a dark lord that he had to serve. Perhaps this was his punishment for betraying his best friends. Not that the dark lord paid any heed to it—he was too busy forcing his anger onto the other man—the entire rage and frustration changing into the power that fueled his Cruciatus.

Peter screamed and screamed, he held on.

Peter whimpered as he moved his hands and legs in tandem, his body trying to get away from the agonizing pain that was killing him- he still forced the Cruciatus firmly.

Peter slowly stopped moving and lay still—he held the Cruciatus on.

Peter stopped moving completely. He still held the Cruciatus over him.

"My lord, I think Peter is dead." Ronald commented slowly from one side.

Lord Voldemort stopped his curse. Suddenly feeling enraged at losing his control, and by extension, his servant, he looked at Ronald in complete disarray. "I lost my servant to my rage. That presents a problem for my ritual." Voldemort paused as he considered it. "My future self must have faced this problem too. What did he do?"

Ronald stayed silent, taking his time to reflect on the question, figuring out an adequate answer. "I am sorry but there is no other way to answer this, but my Lord, that is—you from the future, never lost his patience like this. Pettigrew did not die by your curse then, my Lord."

"Your presence has changed the timeline." Voldemort drew out the words that Ronald had left unsaid. "I had a sneaking suspicion that this might happen."

"My lord, couldn't you use Bellatrix in Pettigrew's place?" Ronald suggested pointedly.

"No, it would," Voldemort hesitated, "it would present a problem. One I am not ready to encounter."

"I might have an idea to this problem, my Lord," Ronald began lightly, making sure that the flattery was just the barest minimum. "Of course, I am just a menial servant; please do not hold it as my arrogance, my Lord."

Voldemort frowned. Something about Weasley seemed _odd_ to him. Something he could not place yet.

"Go on."

Ronald bowed. "If my lord is going to perform a resurrection ritual, then perhaps an alternative to Pettigrew is possible."

"And what is that?"

"One of your _horcruxes_ , my Lord. They are parts of you, after all. And Bellatrix could get one of them- if you order her," he added quickly.

"Hmmm." Voldemort speculated intensely. "I will think on it."

* * *

 **### yes, and this was it. The last part of Lord-ing around. Now I can move onto the matters of the Yule Ball and all that follows. Madness and Romance included. Hopefully , it was likeable despite being short. As always, reviews please.**


	35. Chapter 35 : Yule tidings

"AAAAAAAAHHH!"

The shriek tore through the air, and despite the festivity all around, it did distract a considerable number of people who instantly ran towards the source- the bathroom on the first floor. Harry, Tracy, Neville and Theo being some of them who raced as quickly as possible, only to bang open the door of the girl's bathroom at the first corridor, and there on the floor was-

Hermione Granger.

Mutilated. Tortured. Dead.

"HERMIONE!" The words were the only ones that did not get lost inside his throat, as Harry Potter stood blankly, staring at the mutilated body of his first and ex-best friend, Hermione Granger.

* * *

 **A few hours earlier…**

Snow was falling thickly upon the castle and its grounds. The pale blue Beauxbatons carriage looked like a large, chilly, frosted pumpkin next to the iced gingerbread house that was Hagrid's cabin, while the Durmstrang ship's portholes were glazed with ice, the rigging white with frost. The house-elves down in the kitchen were outdoing themselves with a series of rich, warming stews and savory puddings, and only Fleur Delacour seemed to be able to find anything to complain.

"It is too heavy, all zis Hogwarts food," they heard her saying grumpily as Harry and Daphne sat in the Great Hall behind her for lunch with Tracy and Astoria joining them. "I will not fit into my dress robes!"

"Oooh there's a tragedy," Tracy snapped as Fleur went out into the entrance hall. "She really thinks a lot of herself, that one, doesn't she?" Harry and Daphne gave each other a quick glance but said nothing.

"Tracy — who are you going to the ball with?" Harry asked, to which Tracy simply titled her head towards Theo who was having a discussion with Blaise. The last week had changed quite a lot in Hogwarts, as well as Magical Britain. By the most part, the change had been for the better.

Minerva Mcgonagall, upon becoming the Headmistress had hired a fellow Transfiguration Master, one Artemis Crackford, an ex-professor from Salem Academy in the states to come and teach at Hogwarts. Moody was doing a good enough job as DADA professor, so there was no point in changing it. Binns had been replaced with a young professor with high NEWTS in History of Magic—one Doris McDonald. The news of Professor Snape's death did not get any proper mention since he was already away from Hogwarts since the last couple of months, lying in a ward in Saint Mungo's. The entire Wizarding Britain had dissolved in a flurry of activity as the Ministry received a high influx of resumes from aspiring muggleborns who wanted a career with the Ministry. Wanting to move in with the rising tide, several other private firms and businesses too decided to adopt the new changes, finding it surprising that the new candidates might not have enough pure blood, but they were indeed hard working and diligent.

Back at Hogwarts, everyone was readying for the Yule Ball, which was supposed to be organized that very evening. Harry had done a very splendid job of asking Daphne to be his date, being as romantic in his way as he could. Daphne had blushed and accepted his request, making him stand up and kiss her in front of everyone, causing a lot of whistles and catcalls from the crowd. Fleur Delacour looked like someone had force-fed her a bad egg, but for some reason, she kept her grief to herself and did not cause any kind of scene.

Everyone in Hogwarts was in a festive mood. Everyone was busy talking about two things- one, what they expected from the Yule Ball, and two, who was taking whom. Neville was taking Ginny Weasley to the Ball, while the Weasley twins were taking the Gryffindor chasers—Angelina and Alicia. Draco Malfoy had asked Daphne's sister for the date, but the younger Greengrass had rejected him, and Malfoy had to turn to Parkinson instead.

For Hermione Granger, a lot had changed. Unlike everyone else, she had decided to stay in the library, reading her books instead. Since the start of the session, and especially after the break-up of the golden trio, Hermione had limited herself to the library, filling her life with books and knowledge. It was the only thing, which interested her anymore. Importantly, ever since Dumbledore had become Minister, things had changed a lot, and she found herself looking forward to finishing her NEWTS so that she could land up on a nice, Ministry job—preferably in the Care of magical creatures department and continue her efforts to promote S.P.E.W.

 _Spew_ …. Ron's voice came to her mind, almost drifting like waves in the air.

 _Ron…_

The poor boy had been possessed, and then had been reduced to a catatonic state, before the possessing spirit had decided to erase Ron's entire personality and his memories for good, reducing him to a vegetable-like state. Her best friend, Ron Weasley, was now a permanent member of the Saint Mungo's ward for permanent injuries.

She took a moment to ponder over it, wondering how so much had changed in so little time. The previous Christmas, she and Ron had been to Hogsmeade while Harry had joined them under his invisibility cloak. Now, only a year later, Ron was almost as good as dead. Harry had moved on with his life and his new girlfriend and Hermione was left all alone. While a part of her could not help but resent Harry for abandoning her, she knew that it wouldn't be fair. After all, hadn't she been the one who had resented it every time Harry had given a better performance in class than her? Hadn't she brought her petty ego between her friendship? Harry had simply gotten tired of it all and had moved on.

 _Perhaps I should try to apologize to him one last time…_

Victor Krum had come to her and asked her to accompany him as his date, but Hermione had rejected his offer. In hindsight, it might not have been the best thing to do. After all, Victor was a champion and importantly, she could have enjoyed the Ball but no, she had put her foot on it and chosen to stay in the library and study. However, perhaps….

 _Harry would be at the Ball now, I garner…_

Harry. Harry Potter.

Now though, he wasn't just that. He was the Lord Potter-Slytherin. Heir of Lord Black. He had the ear of the Minister—Albus Dumbledore. In one single session, he had freed Sirius and gotten Fudge removed only to get Dumbledore elected.

The best student in class. The most powerful wizard in school. The Triwizard Champion. The boy-who-lived.

Her best friend.

No. Her ex- best friend.

 _Maybe I should go and apologize to him…_

She looked at the book opened in front of her. A strange revulsion hit her- these books were what had caused her to be filled with so much… so much…

Hermione sighed. Closing the book in hand, she slowly drew out of the empty Library room and slowly walked towards the Great Hall—, which had been transformed, into a huge ballroom for the night.

* * *

An area of lawn right in front of the castle had been transformed into a sort of grotto full of fairy lights — meaning hundreds of actual living fairies were sitting in the rosebushes that had been conjured there, and fluttering over the statues of what seemed to be Father Christmas and his reindeer. Hermione could see Professor Mcgonagall standing on one side of the antechamber, wearing dress robes of red tartan and had arranged a wreath of thistles around the brim of her hat.

The walls of the Hall had all been covered in sparkling silver frost, with hundreds of garlands of mistletoe and ivy crossing the starry black ceiling. The House tables had vanished; instead, there were about a hundred smaller, lantern-lit ones, each seating about a dozen people. She could see Ludo Bagman in robes of bright purple with large yellow stars, was clapping as enthusiastically as any of the students; and Madame Maxime, who had changed her usual uniform of black satin for a flowing gown of lavender silk, was busy talking to Professor Slughorn about something highly interesting. She could see Percy Weasley, ever the snob, talking pompously with others except when Barty Crouch called him over, while the Weasley twins were having a lot of fun with their respective dates—Angelina and Alicia. A part of her could not help but miss having fun, but she knew that it was not an option.

In the center of the raised platform, couples were dancing, holding each other close and enjoying themselves into the night. She could spot many familiar faces but there, almost in the center, dressed in impeccable black robes with green trimmings, was Harry. He looked very sharp tonight, Hermione observed. Her eyes darted towards the girl dancing with him elegantly- Daphne Greengrass, who wore a royal blue gown that complimented her eyes very nicely. Harry's arms were on her waist and she had her arms around his neck as they danced, and then they moved closer, kissing each other on the lips.

Hermione raised her hand to wave at Harry, but her mind told her that it was his right to enjoy the occasion. She could intervene between them on some other day, perhaps tomorrow or the day after. There was no hurry, after all. Sighing in contentment, she turned back to the doorway and took a step when-

"Hey Hermione!"

Hermione turned back, only to see a smiling Neville walking towards her, Ginny Weasley on his arm. The other girl had been through a lot after what happened to her brother, but she seemed to hold on rather well. Neville looked pointedly at her school robes and asked, "Why aren't you enjoying the Ball? A lot of people actually thought that you had gone home for Christmas."

 _I wish I had gone home too._

"I just-I just wanted to talk to Harry about- well, just talk to him, you know." Hermione stammered all the way, not comfortable in speaking out her inner thoughts to someone else. Usually it was Harry (Ron did not have the emotional sense of a teaspoon) who gave her an ear to share such things and a shoulder to rest her head on. Now though….

Neville however, seemed to understand. "Should I, you know, call Harry or something?" He offered. Ginny cleared her throat rather loudly.

"Yes?" Neville asked.

"I think I need a drink. Do you need one, Hermione?" Ginny offered. Hermione just shook her head as Ginny went over to the bar to get a drink for herself, as Neville invited Hermione to sit beside him.

"She is still not comfortable about talking about Harry." He explained, "You know how Ron was possessed and had tried to fire the killing curse towards Harry and Greengrass and everything, and now Ron is-" he stopped suddenly as he realized who it was he was talking to, and instantly apologized. "I am sorry, Hermione, I didn't think and I-"

"It's okay, Neville." Hermione sighed sadly. "At least Harry is happy." She darted a glance towards her best friend who was happily kissing his girlfriend. Neville darted a glance towards them and remarked, "They are good for each other."

Hermione looked at him, surprised. "You know something?"

Neville nodded. "Her grandmother was Stephanie Greengrass nee Longbottom. We are cousins, though we never really knew each other well. She has been rather-" he hesitated, not sure what to say and what not, "- she didn't really have a happy friend circle, and even at Hogwarts, she stuck to her only friend, Davis."

"Oh."

"Yes. She has always had this… mask over her face, showing no emotion and pretending to be cold and cruel, when honestly, I think it is just a defense mechanism to prevent herself from getting emotionally hurt. Now, I see her laughing and having fun, just as Harry is having fun. They are good for each other."

Hermione had to agree, despite the odd feeling in her stomach.

"You sure I shouldn't call Harry? I am sure he would love to talk to you." Neville offered. Hermione shook her head. "No, its fine. I will see him later. See you, Neville."

Neville nodded at her and strode away towards the bar where Ginny was talking to Parvati Patil who had accompanied Justin Finch-fletchley to the Ball. Hermione simply walked out of the Great Hall, away from the lights, walking towards the library. She had just crossed the main corridor when-

"Hey Hermione!"

Hermione spun back instantly, her sad black eyes meeting the bright brown eyes of one Ron Weasley, who was grinning at her, just as he always did.

"Ron-" the words died in her throat, as her mind registered who it was that was standing in front of her. "No, it can't be possible. Ron is- who are you?" Her eyes narrowed as she raised her wand.

"Who are you?"

Ron smiled.

* * *

"Hey Harry!" Neville called out, as Harry nodded back, "Enjoying the Ball?"

Harry just shrugged as he inclined his head towards Daphne. "She is a passable dancer, I guess,"—getting a kick on his shins from said girl.

"Oww." He muttered, causing Neville to smirk. "Bloody violent woman." He let Daphne go talk to her sister while he joined Neville at the bar. "What's up with you? Where is Ginny?"

"Gone to spend some time with her friends." Neville shrugged. "Besides, I had Hermione for company."

Harry raised his eyebrows. "Hermione? I didn't think she stayed for the Christmas holidays."

Neville looked a little uncertain before he replied. "She didn't seem well. Ron's fate has been quite hard on her." Harry' eyes steeled at the mention, before they softened, "What did she say?"

"Nothing much. She wanted to talk with you, but seeing you dance and all; she said that she would talk with you later."

Harry nodded understandably. A part of him couldn't help but feel that he had wronged his other best friend. While it was true that Hermione had a lot to do with Inferno Corp., it was also true that she did not want to destroy the Wizarding world like her successors at Inferno Corp. did. Besides, he thought, with the Ministry's new pro-muggleborn scheme, the chances of the birth of another Inferno Corp. was reduced significantly. While Hermione had become quite hard-hearted in the future, that had been more because of Ron's betrayal than anything else had.

 _Perhaps I have been too hard on her by abandoning her._

"Hey Neville? Where did she say she go?"

Neville looked surprised at his reaction, but then remembered that the two had after all, been best friends at one time. He smiled. "She went out of the hall, towards the main corridor, I think."

Harry smiled. "Thanks. I will see her now."

Neville seemed to debate something and then replied, "Hold on, I am coming too."

Harry looked at him skeptically. "Wouldn't Ginny be left alone?"

Neville looked at him sheepishly. "To be honest, Ginny kind of scares me, and my initial choice for the date was Hermione, but…." He blushed, "—she was kind of, unavailable, as you know."

Harry nodded. "I did not know you liked her."

Neville shrugged. "I fancied her for a while, but then realized that she was going to end up with either you or Ron. So, I decided to move on, but this year… with so much happening, I nearly forgot that I had a good chance with her."

"Oh."

"Anyway, let's go." Neville began to walk towards the oak doors, with Harry swiftly following behind.

* * *

"Let me go, whoever you are, just let me go…." Hermione begged, as she was dragged into the first-floor girl's corridor. Her body was tied in thick ropes. Her entire body was under some kind of petrifaction hex, as the person who was imposing as Ron Weasley dragged her across the floor.

"This is where it all started, isn't it Hermione?" Ron sneered, kicking her in the abdomen as she cried out in pain. "Remember how I used the levitation charm successfully for the first time? I guess I should thank you for that. After all, it was you who corrected me from Leviosaaa to Levioh-sa." He grinned as he waved his wand, levitating her upward by a few feet and then allowing her to fall on the ground with a great thud. The broken glasses on the floor cut into her skin as her blood oozed out, mixing with the water on the floor.

"Please..." Hermione begged. A part of her began to worry if this actually was Ron Weasley, and if so, why was he torturing her? "Yes... But why are you hurting me, Ron?"

"Me?" Ron's eyes went feral, as she glimpsed a rising madness in their depths. "Me hurt you? No-no-no-no no-no-no…, I did not hurt you. You. Hurt. Me." He punctuated his words as he sent cutting hexes towards her torso, tearing her dress and cutting into her skin. Then he strode towards her and gripped her hand tightly. "Remember how you punched Malfoy in the face? You always had a good right-hook." He grinned evilly as he whipped his wand and hurled bone-breakers at her arms, making her scream more and more.

"Ah, I think others aren't being able to hear you. Tell you what? Let me help you. Perhaps then, Harry will be able to come and save his Hermione…. Big bad Dark Lord Harry Potter come to save the day like always…. Nevertheless, you know what? He won't be able to save you _this time_ …" He cast a Sonorous over her face as he ignited a tiny flame at the tip of his wand. His eyes glinted madly. "So scream!"

Hermione screamed.

* * *

Harry and Neville crossed the main corridor only to climb up the stairs when they heard a sudden sound coming from behind one of the pillars. Harry quickly sidestepped and stood in front of a rather scantily clad Tracy and a shirtless Theo who seemed to have been quite immersed in their passions tonight.

"Hey-Eeeeek!"

"Harrrrry!" Tracy yelled, as she hid behind Theo, waving her wand and trying to conjure some robes for herself. Theo glared at the boy who only smirked back.

"What the hell, Potter? Shouldn't you be spending some time with your girlfriend instead of peeking into other's private matters?"

"Well Daphne has gone to meet her sister and- anyway I and Neville were going to see-" His remaining words left unsaid in his throat when a heart-wrenching scream stirred the air.

"HERMIONE!" Both Harry and Neville yelled out, recognizing the voice. They darted off instantly, swiftly followed by Tracy and Theo into the first-floor girl's bathroom. Finding it closed, Neville tried an unlocking charm, but it didn't work.

"Damn!" Cried Neville helplessly. Apparently, Harry had other ideas as he focused on his magic and punched through the door, creating a hole through it. He hit the door a second time with his open palm and it banged open.

The first thing that they saw was the bloody red water inundating the entire floor. With uncertain steps, the four entered into the bathroom. The cubicles were broken, with blood lining the walls and there in one side was-

"HERMIONE!"

Neville leapt forward, trying to get to the girl, who lay on the ground. Her entire dress was torn, her body mutilated, with one eye completely burnt off and blood was oozing out of her entire body. Neville pulled her over to her lap as he turned back to see a shell-shocked Harry Potter standing like a statue. "HARRY DO SOMETHING!"

His words seemed too bring him back as he lurched and fell on the ground, close to Neville. His hands shivered as he slowly led them towards the mutilated girl….

"Hermione…."

Hermione Granger was dead.

"Harry… Harry... Look there!" Tracy was saying. Harry glanced at the direction she was pointing. There on the wall, written with what he assumed to be Hermione's blood, were written the ominous words Harry had never expected to see."

 **MERRY CHRISTMAS, DARK LORD HARRY POTTER!**

 **ENJOY YOUR GIFT!**

* * *

 **### Hello everyone. I know I have had been away for a while now, my longest break so far, but there was a massive change in my work schedule and I wasn't finding any time to work on my stories. Although my work schedule hasn't quite changed, but I have managed to squirrel some time out of it so that I can continue updating my works. Hope you like the chapter.**

 **Thanks.**

 **Arcturus Peverell.**


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